


Weremione

by Sakubato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, F/M, Light Angst, Romance, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 81,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakubato/pseuds/Sakubato
Summary: Harry and Hermione don't quite escape from Professor Lupin unscathed at the end of third year,which results in unexpected complications and struggles as the pair face adversity and bigotry while trying to stay alive. This is a Work in progress and will be updated as i can.





	1. Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I own Nothing but the ideas, characters are all J.K. Rowlings
> 
> This is a WIP ad i will publish as i can.

1

**Full Moon**

He was running through the forest, running from something, something terrifying, but what?  It was cold, late, he hurt, and he wasn’t alone. She was with him, running and scared, but of what?  Professor Lupin! They were running from Lupin as a Werewolf. Harry remembered now, he and Hermione had come back in time, saved Buckbeak, then she had called Professor Lupin after he’d changed.  Doing so had saved Sirius’s life. Now if only she’d had a plan for how _they_ were going to get away from him.

Harry jerked as Hermione pulled him behind a tree.  He started to ask her what she thought she was doing but She hugged him close and her hand covering his mouth stopped him.  He blushed a bit, feeling her this close. She’d grown this year, grown into a young woman, a very pretty young woman, but he shoved those thoughts down.  She looked over his shoulder, checking behind them, then relaxed a little.

“I think we lost him,” She whispered, “Try to stay quiet just in case.”

He nodded weakly, and her hand dropped from his mouth.  He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. As he did so, he realized she hadn’t stopped holding him.  He savored the closeness for a second, before banishing the thoughts he shouldn’t have about his best friend from his mind.  Opening his eyes again, he froze. Stalking towards them, rearing back to strike, was Professor Lupin.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted, trying to twist her away and interpose himself between his best friend and the werewolf.  He almost made it. Almost. He never knew, then or later, exactly what happened. He knew he tried to pull Hermione out of the way, he knew he watched the strike coming, but could never remember the details, only the pain.

Fire erupted in his side as the werewolf’s claws racked across his ribs.   He felt flesh rend and bones crack as the paw swiped both him and his best friend, sending them sprawling.  Harry struggled to get back up, but Hermione had landed atop him. He pushed harder, trying to… he wasn't sure but he knew he had to do something.  His vision grayed, blurring as he saw the werewolf continue towards them.

Hermione groaned above him, struggling to collect herself.  And Harry rolled them over, placing himself above his best friend.  He winced at the pain flaring up his side as he exerted himself, but maybe, just maybe, he could save her.  He shuddered as she screamed in pain; the roll hurting her as much as it did him. He stared into her fear filled eyes, trying reassure her with his eyes, as he waited for the werewolf to strike out again.

Another scream cut through the air, and Harry’s vision abruptly changed as he jerked awake.  Disoriented, he tried to figure out who had screamed, before realizing it was him. He looked frantically around, trying to figure out what had happened, where he was.  Breathing heavily, he fumbled for his glasses on his night stand. Putting them on, his vision resolved itself into his dark bedroom, and his heart slowed slightly. A dream, only a bad dream.

He paused, no, not a bad dream, a bad memory.  His hand strayed to his side, feeling the hot, puckered flesh of the scars Lupin had left.  His hands caressing the marks, he remembered the rest of that night. Buckbeak had appeared just before the next strike, protecting them.  Once he’d saved them he forced Lupin to retreat, and chased Lupin away before he could finish the job. He’d struggled to get to the lake with Hermione, hoping to see his dad.  They’d arrived in time to see Sirius and himself being attacked by dementors, their ghastly presence chilling him from just the memory of it. He’d looked around and tried to see his father coming to rescue them.  But he saw no one else, No one to cast the Patronus, now one to save them. Then he had realized that it wasn’t his father that had cast the Patronus before, it was him. He’d stepped forward, and drawing on the memory of Hermione’s embrace just moments before, cast the most powerful Patronus he’d ever seen cast.  A stag burst forth from his wand, crashing into the swarming demons. The patronus chased them away, then returned to nuzzle Harry and Hermione’s wounded sides once, before dissipating.

           The dementors driven off, Hermione had bound both their wounds.  Harry had despaired at his failure to prevent her injury, but she’d merely given him a small smile and said it was fine, and preferable to being dead.  It had hurt when Buckbeak had flown them up to Flitwicks window, but at the same time he’d secretly relished the feel of her arms around him. The look on his Godfathers face when he’d called ‘Hippogriff for Black’ had caused even Hermione to chuckle.  

           Once Sirius was gone, taking Buckbeak with him, they’d used Harry’s invisibility cloak and a broom borrowed from the school broom shed, to sneak back into the Hospital wing.  Once there, they’d extracted an oath of confidentiality from Madam Pomfrey to only tell Professor McGonagall if she absolutely had to tell someone before revealing their new injuries.  Harry’s ears still burned from the memory of the healers rant, he never knew the Hospital Matron knew such words. Fortunately neither Hermione nor he appeared to be infected with full on Lycanthropy, though they were told to expect some changes regardless.

They had changed, many things had changed.  Both desired more meat, Harry preferred beef on the raw side, though Hermione seemed to relish chicken and fish.  Hermione had always been quieter than her male friends, but now Harry joined her, even when they never said a word to each other.  Comfortable silence became their norm, as if they had no need for words. They’d grown closer, yet farther apart. Something had fundamentally changed between Harry and his best female friend.  He couldn’t say exactly what it was, just that there was something different, something more. Neither spoke of it to the other, but it stayed the elephant in the room between them until the day they’d departed.  That too had been different. As they’d said goodbyes on platform 9 ¾, Hermione had given her usual bone crushing hug goodbye, and for the first time ever, Harry had returned it, to both of their surprise and embarrassment.

Ron had been his usual self, nothing new there.  Though he didn’t feel as close to Ron anymore. He couldn’t say exactly what or why it had happened, just that it didn’t feel the same anymore.  He’d written this summer, and still been invited to the Quidditch world cup his father had gotten tickets for, but he just didn’t feel as close to the carefree redhead anymore.  Maybe it was the effects of his brush with death, or with becoming a were, but if he thought back over the years, he felt he’d failed, that he could have done more.

Hermione however, her, he’d written a dozen letters to so far, and she’d returned them.

Harry sighed, rolling over in his bed.  Even the Dursleys had changed to him. Everyone had given him much more space than before, even Dudley avoided antagonizing him.  Uncle Vernon had actually let him eat with the family, not at the table though, he could keep his ‘freakishness’ in the kitchen, but they’d let him eat actual meals.  Harry had no illusions of him actually being liked, he saw the fear in their eyes. He could also smell it. That was another thing the injuries had left him, his sense of smell and hearing were better than he’d ever imagined possible.  It was a blessing and a curse though, better hearing let him hear what everyone said about him when they thought he was out of earshot.

Harry sighed, it was the first full moon since the incident, he couldn’t bring himself to call it an attack, and his nerves felt on fire.  He checked the time: 12:20 am. He’d finally gotten to sleep an hour ago, despite the sense of fear and anxiety that had been bothering him.  It hadn’t been very restful, and now who knew if he’d be able to get back to sleep. He wondered if…

Harry’s train of thought broke off as he heard a tapping on his window.  Looking up and seeing Hedwig sitting there, he scrambled up to let her in.  The majestic Snowy owl hopped in and presented her leg to him. Still groggy, Harry finally realized she had a note on her leg, and quickly removed it.  Giving Hedwig an owl treat, he looked at the note wondering why Hermione would be sending him a note at this time of night. His thoughts broke off as he say the familiar curving script on the page.  Smiling slightly at Hermione’s neat writing, he opened the note. Inside, two words were written, and Harry’s heart stopped. In the middle of the page, the two words ‘HELP’ and ‘TURNING’ was staring back at him, and fear ran its icy fingers through his insides.

____________

3 Hours earlier

“I’ll be ok mum,” Hermione reassured her mother, “Madam Pomfrey said we’d be uneasy around the full moon, but we won’t change.”  She tried to sound confident, but it was hard with her skin burning like it was. Plus even she realized the healer wasn’t sure about anything related to this.

“I know dear,” Anne Granger sighed, “But you’ve been really distant all night.”

“I guess i have been, I’m just worried about Harry,” She admitted, turning to look out the window so her mother wouldn’t see the pain in her eyes.  “He doesn’t have anyone mum. You and dad are here for me, but he doesn’t have anyone.”

Anne Granger paused at the wistfulness in her daughter's’ voice.  She’d known Hermione only had a few friends, really only Harry and the redhead… Ron Weasel?  He’d seen her write Ron a couple times, mostly to coordinate her joining the Weasels’ at the big sports thing at the end of the summer.  Hermione really wasn’t a fan of the sport, Quad itch?, but she’d become much more interested when Harry had informed her he’d be there.

Harry… The snowy owl sitting by her daughters’ bedside was another interesting piece of the puzzle.  Another letter for Harry, her 15th if count was correct, was waiting for Hedwig to take tomorrow, once Hermione finished writing it.  The owl had been a fairly regular guest, not that anyone complained.

Now she was helping her daughter get ready for bed, on the night they expected to be one of the hardest she’d ever had.  She’d been shocked when Hermione had returned from school with a still bandaged side, a note about care for a werewolf injury (non-turning), and a visit from a rather upset Deputy headmistress explaining in more detail what to expect on the full moons.  She and her husband had been less than pleased. They’d thought Hermione would be safe at her school, not attacked every year. It was a surprise when Hermione said this defended this one so vehemently, saying it was entirely her fault. The explanation for the injury had been weird in and of itself; people turning into animals, a werewolf, and a man thought dead for 13 years.

According to Professor McGonagall, they should expect Hermione to be antsy and irritable for about a day either side of the actual full moon, and generally keener senses and a heartier appetite.  The professor had indicated that more red meat in her diet was to be expected, along with a preference on the rarer side. Hermione had said that the few days she’d had at Hogwarts indicated she’d prefer more fish and chicken than beef, which was unusual.  Her irritability had also shown itself with a vengeance earlier that day. Thankfully no one had been hurt, but she suspected none of the kids her age would want to be around her daughter much after what she said to the O’Donnell boy.

“Are you alright dear?” Anne asked, turning her attention back to her daughter who was now furiously itching her arm.

“Yeah, I think so.” Hermione responded,  “My skin feels on fire and the moon isn’t even up yet.”

“Do you need some lotion or…” She trailed off, and paled.  

“What’s wrong mum?” Hermione asked, turning towards her.

“Dear, your arm.” Anne pointed.

“What?” Hermione looked at her mother, then down at her arm and recoiled in shock.  Her hairy arm. Her hairy arm with more hair still growing arm. “Oh no.”

“Hermione…” Her mother stepped towards her.

“NO!” Hermione shouted.  “Get back! Get dad and RUN.” Hermione arched her back, letting out a scream of pain as a bolt of fire lashed through her, every nerve screaming in agony.

“Honey.”

“GO!  Now!” Hermione staggered over to her desk, “Get help but get out of here now.”  She watched her mother back out of her room in fear. Grabbing a pen, she quickly wrote a note and turned to a ruffled Hedwig.  “Take this to Harry, Hurry”

The owl looked at the troubled teen, hooted once, and took off out the window as Screams of pain followed her into the night.


	2. Chapter 2 - Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry rushes to help Hermione, but all is not as it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, just the ideas.  Thanks to my Helpers: karasunova and CoquetteKitten.  Now for the next chapter:

 

 

2

Changes

 

Harry dressed quickly, his mind racing.  What had happened to Hermione?  He had been injured worse that she had, why would she turn when he hadn’t?  Either way he had to get to her.  He pulled on his trainers.  He couldn’t fly, couldn’t drive, the trains were done for the night.  He wondered if a bus…  A bus!  The Knight bus!  He grabbed his emergency bag and his wand.  The bag was Hermione’s idea, an emergency grab-and-go bag for when he had to run and didn’t have time to pack.  It contained 50 galleons, 200 pounds, six bottles of water, a bunch of snacks, several magical and mundane maps, and his cloak. Pausing to ensure he had the essentials, he ran for the door.

SLAM.

Harry staggered back as his door refused to open.   _Damn Uncle Vernon and his blasted locks_ he thought.  Pointing his wand at the door, he whispered “Alohomora” and heard a satisfying series of clicks.  Opening the now unlocked door, he raced down the stairs.  Bursting out the front door, he waved his wand as he ran to the curb.

Bang.  The huge purple triple decker rolled into view.  Harry hopped on before it even stopped.

“Welcome to the...” Stan started his speech, but was cut off.

“Hi Stan, no time, I need to get to Crawley, 17 Astoria lane.” Harry interrupted, slightly winded “Here’s 3 galleons to make it the next stop.”

“Hiya Neville, everything OK?”  Stan asked concerned.

“No, my friend is in trouble, need to help.” Harry wheezed.  “Can we please go now?”

“Right-O Neville,” Stan turned to the driver, “17 Astoria lane in Crawly Ern, quickly now, we’re on a rescue mission!”

Harry staggered as the Bus lurched into motion.  Stans’ hand shot out as a turn sent him towards the entrance. “Steady-on there Neville.  Don’t worry, we’ll getcha to yer friend now.”

“Thanks” Harry muttered, grabbing a railing before the bus lurched again.

“No worries there, Neville.” Stan replied, “Here comes your stop now.”

With another surge and a bang, the knight bus appeared in Crawley.  Harry rushed off before the bus stopped, calling his thanks over his shoulder.  The bus surged and banged away as Harry paused to get his bearings.  17 was in front of him, 15 to the right and 19 to the left so that meant… Harry turned to the right, heading down the way and pulling his invisibility cloak on as he ran.  Stopping in front of number 9, his wand drawn, he took stock of his surroundings.

The neighborhood was quiet.  No one seemed to be up, no coppers or any indications of a disturbance.  He’d expected a lot of attention if a werewolf turned in a muggle neighborhood.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, something wasn’t right.  He slowly circled Hermione’s house, noting it was a nice house but not retaining any details as he was looking for what was out of place.  He didn’t find anything.  No signs of a rampant werewolf or any kind of a struggle.

Cautiously, he approached the door.  No signs of damage, nor of recent repair from spells.  One of his new abilities since the incident was he tended to be able to feel if magic had been done recently.  Hermione had helped him figure that one out.  It had taken them a few days down by the lake, away from the ambient magic of the castle, which tended to overload his sense, but he’d finally tuned it.  At least enough to tell if it had been performed.

He cautiously tried the door, it wasn’t locked.  Opening the door quietly, he slowly entered the house.  Nothing was disturbed.  Nothing seemed out of place.  He calmly reached out with his heightened senses, noting each smell and sound he could.  The peoples scents, Hermione and two older people, one male and one female, probably her parents.  There was a ambient smell of food, and Crookshanks, but also another smell, feline, familiar but not one he knew.  He only heard one person in the house, _above him_ he thought, but it was muffled.

Reigning in his senses, he slowly approached the stairs.  He’d gotten to the landing before he heard it.  Sobs.  Hermione's sobs.  Abandoning the cloak, he took the stairs two at a time, following the noise.   _Where is she?_ He thought desperately, looking between the four doors off the hallway at the top of the stairs.   _Right side_ he realized instinctually, then threw open the closer door.   _Bathroom, next door_ He thought, then paused.  Looking further into the bathroom he saw her.  There, huddled in a corner, Hermione was crying.  She was curled up, shaking as she sobbed.

“Hermione?” He asked softly, “Are you ok?”

Hermione stopped shaking, startled by the intrusion. Looking up she stared at Harry, disbelief in her large, chocolate eyes.  Harry stared back.  Back at her large eyes.  At her fur covered face.  At her cute feline nose.  At her whiskers and her mobile ears.  At her bushy brown tail.  She looked almost like she had after the polyjuice mishap second year.  _Almost, but better somehow_ a voice in his head thought.

“Harry?” She asked, fear etched into her voice, “How?”

“You sent for me, remember?” he answered softly, lowering his wand.  “You sent me Hedwig, you called for help.”

“I did?” Hermione’s eyes skirted around, “I only remember the pain.  What… How did you get here?”

“Knight Bus, I don’t recommend it.” Harry answered, lowering himself down to her level.  “The important thing is you’re ok, you’re not turning.”

“You thought I was turning?” Hermione said confusedly, “You thought I was turning and you just came right over?” Her voice was edged in anger by the end.

“We promised each other, remember?  No matter what, we’d be there for each other.” He pulled her gently to him, and she curled into him, “If anything happened we’d take care of each other and our families.  Even if we turned, we’d help each other.”

“But…”

“Shhhh.” Harry soothed her, “You’re not a werewolf, you’re not going to hurt anyone.  Well, at least not anyone you don’t want to.” He grinned a bit, “Actually it’s kind of cute.”

“Harry…” Hermione threatened.

The stairs creaked behind them, and both went silent.  Another creak, someone else was here.  Grabbing up his wand, Harry turned, moving between Hermione and the door just as another wand came into view.  Praying silently for forgiveness if they were friendly, Harry gathered himself.

“STUPE…”

“Wait!” Hermione called, pushing his wand out of the way.  The wand retreated, and Harry caught the clue Hermione had seen.  A flash of a familiar Tartan.  Calming his rattle nerves, he took a deep breath.  The scent he caught confirmed what they suspected.

“Sorry Professor McGonagall, you can come up now.” Harry called.  “You caught us by surprise and I’d rather have to revive someone friendly than fight someone who isn’t.”

“I understand Mr. Potter,” Minerva McGonagall allowed as she came into view.  “Though I’m curious how you came to be here, what matters most is Miss Granger here.”

“I’m okay Professor,” Hermione said quietly, still hiding behind Harry.

“I understand you are better now Miss Granger,” The Scottish professor agreed, “But both myself and Madam Pomfrey would like to examine you so we can determine what happened.”

Hermione tried to bury herself into Harry’s back at that.  Turning, he wrapped her in a hug and whispered to her, “It’ll be ok, I’ll be right here with you.”  He held her gently, and her breathing calmed.  A moment later, she relaxed and began to purr.

“Professor, how did you get here?” Harry asked over his shoulder.

“Miss Granger’s parents went to the Leaky Cauldron, got Tom to contact me.  I apparated straight here after waking Mr. Weasley and sending him for Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black.  Since they informed me they thought she was turning, having a coherent werewolf and a Grim to help subdue her seemed prudent.”

“Subdue?” Harry asked suspicious once again.

“Yes Mr. Potter,” McGonagall returned shortly, “A werewolf, especially a freshly turned one, in a muggle environment would be a massacre.  Subduing the individual and getting her away from anyone she could hurt would be critical.  I’m sorry but if she had turned, no one would have been safe, not even you.”

“Professor,” Hermione asked softly, “I would never hurt Harry.”

“I understand you believe that dear,” She sighed, “But you wouldn’t have been yourself.”

“I know that professor,” Hermione said more confidently, “I was fighting it, trying not to give in to it.  And I was slowly losing.  When Harry got here, I was fighting the… the wildness.  I could feel it, feel its pull, and felt it winning.  But when Harry got here it went away.  I can’t really describe it, it was like it knew Harry.  Or Harry was a part of it.”

“Are you saying his presence affected your condition?” Minerva asked, “That when he got here the change you were fighting settled?”

“Yes professor,” Hermione confirmed, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it gave up.”

“I see.  Well, it’s definitely something we need to consider moving forward.” McGonagall sighed, “Now, if you’re willing, will you come downstairs with me to await Madam Pomfrey and your parents?”

“I…” Hermione hesitated, hiding further behind Harry.  “I don’t know.”

“Miss Granger, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.  If anything, it should be myself and Madam Pomfrey ashamed.  We’re the ones that failed to anticipate this, whatever it is.  But we are here now to help you through it.”

“I guess so,” Hermione sighed, “But no sending Harry away.”

“I’m not going anywhere Hermione,” Harry reassured his friend, then chuckled, “At least not until the Ministry wakes up at least.”

“The Ministry Mr. Potter?” McGonagall asked, then sighed, “What have you done this time?”

“Well Professor, I kind of had to use magic to escape from my aunt and uncle.” Harry informed her, abashed. “I know I’m not supposed to use magic outside of school, but Hermione was in danger and I had to get out… so I used an unlocking spell.  I know I’m not supposed to, and I understand I’ll be punished, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat if Hermione needed me again, I’m not ashamed of doing it.”

“I see,” The stern Scottish woman sighed, “And it is understandable.  Nevertheless, you really shouldn’t…” She paused.  “Mr. Potter, I’ll admit I’m not as familiar as some, but aren’t muggle door locks normally unlockable from inside a house?”

“Well,” Harry hesitated, realizing he’d said too much.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, and he heard the suspicion in her voice.

“Professor, Hermione is the” Harry tried quickly to redirect the conversation, only to be interrupted.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!” Hermione growled, the room shuddering at her release of magic.  “You tell us and you tell us now.”

“The locks were on the outside of my door.” Harry sighed

“Locks!?” Hermione demanded, “As in more than one?  How many Harry?  How many locks did that vile loathsome creature put on your door?”

“Six.  He added six locks to the outside of my door.”  Harry admitted reluctantly, then jumped to stop Hermione from storming off, “No Hermione, you can’t run off to hex them into oblivion.”

“Harry Potter, you will let me go!” Hermione growled, magic tangibly pulsing off of her, “You will then take me to your Aunt and Uncles where we WILL stop this from ever happening again.”

McGonagall had taken a step back at Hermione’s magical outburst, then paused as the young girl, _No, young woman,_ she thought, took charge of her friend.  She also noted the changes more completely now that she wasn’t hiding behind Mr. Potter.  It was almost like the polyjuice incident their second year, but the result was something more, more complete, maybe more refined.  Her Fur was no longer the chocolate it was second year, now is was a silky honey brown a few lighter than her hair.  Her large cat eyes were the same dark brown as her eyes normally were, just with slit pupils.  Her Hands appears to have stayed relatively normal, though her nails appeared to now be lethal.  Overall, despite the tears still hanging on her whiskers, she looked predatory.

“Mr. Potter may have been trying to distract us Miss Granger,” The instructor cut in, “But he did have a point about the relative urgency of the two situations.” She held up her hand to forestall comment.  “I don’t disagree with your concern, but your situation is the more pressing.  Knowing you as I do however, I will offer you this:  If you come down and work out your situation, I will promise to accompany Mr. Potter when he returns to Privet Drive.  If our mutual concerns are found to be valid, it will be a short visit to collect his belongings as I will NOT allow him to live in such conditions.  Is this acceptable?”

“May I go with you?”

“That will be determined later,” She sighed, “I won’t say no, but your parents must agree and you will not have your wand if you do.”

“My wand?” Hermione paused

“Yes Miss Granger,” The professor confirmed, “We already have one case of underage magic.  If we have a second, and I imagine a much more severe, infraction, it will not go over well with the Ministry.”

“Yeah Hermione,” Harry added, taking her hand in his, “The last thing we need is for you to end up in Azkaban for cursing my relatives.”

“Fine, no wand,” Hermione agreed, squeezing his hand, “But I WILL be going with you Harry.”

“We’ll see what your parents say,” McGonagall temporized, not doubting for a second all three of them would be at Privet Drive by morning.

 


	3. Altered states

 

The trio looked up at the sound of the apparition in the backyard.  Hermione had come downstairs and set tea out for everyone, and they’d settled in to wait around the kitchen table.  The fact it was the backyard had all three drawing wands, before a familiar voice called out.

“Minerva?” Arthur Weasley’s voice called out, “We’re here, though Remus is rather agitated at the moment.”

“Stay here,” McGonagall told the youths, then called out as she went to the backyard. “Arthur, we’re all ok.  Hermione is safe, though there’s a complication.”

“A complication?  Is she ok?”

“Yes, but for the time being, can you return Remus and Padfoot to the preserve?” The professor continued, “I expect a visit from the ministry shortly, as we are about to cast spells in a muggle neighborhood.  Having a werewolf and an escaped convict around would not be helpful.”

“But what about…”

“I will come around tomorrow and explain more.” There was a pause, “Yes, I'll explain it to you two as well.”

“Very well Minerva,” Arthur acquiesced, “Can I at least tell everyone that Hermione is ok?  I’m sure they’ll be worried.”

“Yes, she’s fine,” McGonagall confirmed, “Just a bit of a scare is all.  Tell everyone it was a fit of accidental magic.”

“Good, good.” Arthur sighed, “Come on you two, she’s safe.  We’ll get more information tomorrow.”

Professor McGonagall returned to the kitchen as Arthur apparated Sirius and Remus away.  The confused looks on the teens face caused the older witch to pause, then sighed.

“Arthur is a wonderful man, “She began to explain, “But in addition to being Ron’s father, he is not the sharpest tool in the shed.  As Ron is as yet unaware of either of your conditions, we felt it best to minimize the knowledge.”

“So who knows?” Hermione asked softly, “Who knows I’m a freak?”

“NO!” Harry cut her off, “You are not a freak, I don’t want you to ever say that again.”

Both women turned to Harry at the vehemence in his voice.  There was pain there Hermione realized as she looked into his eyes, personal pain.  The knotting of his muscles and the white knuckles on his clenched fists was another sign there was a lot behind that statement. She nodded to appease him, but swore to herself she’d find out why later.

“Mr. Potter is correct Miss Granger,” McGonagall confirmed, “You both are merely in some unusual circumstances.”  She too had noted Harry’s reaction to the statement. However, having observed the Dursleys personally all those years ago, she had a suspicion why.  And if her suspicion was confirmed, not only would Harry be living somewhere else, but one Albus too-many-names Dumbledore would be lucky to still be breathing afterward.

They were starting on their second cup of tea when they again heard the sounds of apparition, this time from the front yard.  The teens moved away from the front of the house as McGonagall went to the front door. She got to it as it flew open and a tall, brown haired woman burst in.  She had wild hair like Hermione, though more wavy than bushy, a round face and chocolate eyes.

“Professor!” The new woman exclaimed, “Is she ok?  Is she hurt? Where is she?”

“Calm yourself Mrs. Granger,” McGonagall said calmly, “You daughter is fine.  There was an unanticipated effect from the full moon but she did not turn.” McGonagall held the woman's’ shoulders, forcing her to look at her.  “Your daughter is safe, but we need to determine what exactly caused this. She did not turn into a werewolf but she did undergo a transformation.”

“What kind of transformation?”

“It appears to be similar to the potion mishap she had second year,” McGonagall told her, then looked over her shoulder, “Hermione, Harry, it’s okay to come out now.”

As the teens came into view, the woman started to sob.  Haltingly, she started towards the pair, and Hermione met her halfway.  Harry shuddered at the apparent force of the woman's hug, remembering what Hermione's could feel like, then applied it to a full grown woman.  He made a note to have Madam Pomfrey, who’d followed Hermione's mum into the house, to check Hermione for cracked ribs.

“My baby,” Mrs. Granger sobbed, “My poor baby,”  she held her daughter tight, crying in relief. Hermione’s flattened ears and rapidly flicking tail eased, her ears straightening and tail slowing.  Harry grinned for a second as he realized her tail reminded him of crookshanks bottle brush tail, only thicker.

“Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Who are you?” Mrs. Granger asked him at the same time.

Turning to Hermione’s mum, he introduced himself, “I’m Harry Potter Ma’am.  We met summer before last in Diagon Alley for a moment. I was with Hermione when she was injured, and when she sent Hedwig with a note for help I came as fast as I could.”

As introductions were made, Pomfrey started casting spells on Hermione, checking what she could.  She occasionally cast a spell or two at Harry as well, but most of it seemed to be at Hermione.

“That was rather reckless of you Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey scowled at him, “If she had been turning…”

“If she had we’d have dealt with it.” Harry turned to the matron, “I made Hermione a promise that no matter what we’d deal with this together.  It wasn’t an ‘if it’s safe’ promise, it was a ‘no matter what’ promise. If I knew it meant getting injured again, or even turning myself, I’d still have come.  She’d do it for me and I would have, will, and always will do it for her.”

“Mr. Potter!” McGonagall exclaimed.

“Sorry professor, but it’s true.” Harry continued, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder.  “I would be dead by now if it wasn’t for Hermione. That’s the simple truth. And if I didn’t show her the same friendship and support she’s shown me, then I’m not a very good friend.  I tried to save her that night in the forest, I was only partially successful. So now we will work through it together.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Granger asked, “How were you only partially successful?”

Harry looked at Hermione, an eyebrow raised in question.  Seeing her nod, he turned back to her mother and replied. “When Professor Lupin caught up with us, I saw him first.  We’d huddled together, and as he went to strike, I tried to shield Hermione. I wasn’t fast enough.”

Harry turned slightly, and pulled up the side of his shirt.  The puckered red scars of Lupins claws were boldly evident. What was also evident, now that they weren’t hidden by bandages as the first few times Hermione had seen his side, were the other scars.  Older, but no better healed. Definitely smaller, and definitely older, but still visible.

“You, my baby,” Mrs. Granger stammered, awe creeping into her voice. “You tried to shield her? But you would have… you were willing to die for her?”

“Not my first option, but yes.” Harry said, “I’d dearly like to live, maybe find out what it’s like to have a real family someday... even be loved by them.

“I’ve got a psychotic maniac after me that won’t stay dead but so far I’ve survived, mostly due to Hermione’s brilliance and no small helping of luck.  But that night she was there because of me, and if I could save her, shield her from harm, then yes, I would do whatever I could to do so.”

“Harry,” Hermione sighed, “That’s sweet but it was my choice to be there.  You are not responsible for me.”

“No Hermione,” Harry argued, “If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have been there.  You were there because I was there, so I’m responsible.”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall cut in, “Blame is not the issue here.  The issue is that you are working through any difficulties together.  There are very few who would stand by each other through such conditions.  I dare say even Mr. Weasley would balk at this situation.”

“Considering his response second year ma’am,” Harry said after a moment, “and especially this year, I’m afraid I have to agree with you.  He’s still my friend, I think, I just don’t think he’s either of ours best friend.” Harry looked at Hermione at that, and she nodded.

“I agree Harry,” Hermione added, “Ron is a friend, but he really isn’t the most reliable at times.  Look at the broom issue this year. Yes, you were mad at me, and rightfully so. But he was madder than you were, especially after we talked about it and I apologized for not talking to you first.”

“Broom issue dear?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“Well mum, Harry got a new, top of the line, broom for Christmas.” Hermione explained, looking a bit abashed. “At the time we didn’t know Sirius was innocent and I thought he may have cursed it and sent it to Harry.  I was so sure of myself, I took the broom to Professor McGonagall to be checked… without talking to Harry first.”

“Hermione!” Her mother looked at her in shock, “You stole your friends broom?”

“No Mrs. Granger,” Harry defended his friend, “She took a dangerous and possible deadly object to be checked before I could do something rash.  She was right to get it checked. And she admitted she should have talked to me first but she was looking out for my safety. We agreed to talk more and not let emotions get away from us in the future.  Plus she was right, it was from Sirius. It just wasn’t cursed.”

“I see,” Mrs. Granger said, only slightly mollified “Well, if you’ve forgiven her, I suppose so should I.”

“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger,” Pomfrey cut in, “I have some good news and some bad I’m afraid.”

“Both of us?” Hermione asked, surprised.

Pops of apparition interrupted them.

“Sounds like the DMLE is here,” McGonagall said, “I’ll deal with them.  Please continue Poppy.” And she got up and headed back to the front door.

“Yes well,” the healer continued, “it seems that your injuries are more unique than we originally thought.  It seems, Miss Granger, that the latent remains of your mishap second year had an unusual side effect.”

“Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione inquired, “I thought polyjuice cleared from your system after you returned to looking like yourself.  What remains were there?”

“Well, normally you would be correct.  In this case however, due to the, uh, contamination of the potion, we were forced to neutralize the potion, which did not purge it from your system.”  The matron explained, “Since it was already in your system and a non-human transformation, the lycanthropic infection used it to boost its potency.”

“So, basically, she was more susceptible because of her potion mishap?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“A good, if incomplete, summation.” Pomfrey agreed, “Miss Granger’s prior transformation left an imprint in her magic. When the infection encountered this imprint, it created a cumulative, or boosted, effect leading to a transformation that is no longer lycanthropic. It’s feline.”

“So I’ll start turning into a cat on the full moon instead of a wolf?” Hermione asked, “I’m a Werecat?”

“Yes and no Miss Granger.  It appears to be an incomplete transformation, very similar to the one you experienced second year.  And before you worry, all indications so far are you will return to normal once the moon sets, unlike second year when we had to correct it ourselves.”

“I guess that’s not too bad.” Hermione pondered, “I won’t be a danger to anyone, and I kept my own mind when I changed.  Mostly.”

“Correct, which brings me to Mr. Potter.”

“Uh oh,” Harry muttered.

“Oh yes Mr. Potter,” The healer confirmed with a small grin, “Uh oh indeed.  It appears you are almost as unique as Miss Granger here. Due to the way you two were infected, and the close contact you two had before you were able to get proper treatment, you have also have the modified infection.”

“You mean I infected him?” Hermione asked aghast.

“No Miss Granger,” Pomfrey assured her, “It was likely when you were mutually infected.  The werewolf hit both of you at the same time, probably causing the cross infection at that time.  However, Mr. Potter has not previously changed by the effects of the potion on him, so it’s harder for the infection to cause changes to him.  It is modified though, and I would expect more feline than lupine responses. That said, it is the same infection, and as such, like recognizes like.  I think you subconsciously recognized the same effects in Mr. Potter and thus, your urges were subdued.”

“So you’re saying since Harry has the same infection, he calms the one in Hermione?” Mrs. Granger asked, “That they share some sort of bond?”

“Honestly,” Pomfrey said reluctantly, “I’m not sure.  Bonds are much more meaningful and tangible in the magical world Mrs. Granger. They are usually detectable and can have far reaching implications.  These two are obviously close as friends, so there is almost certainly a bond of friendship there. As for something more than that, this is a truly unique situation Mrs. Granger.  To the best of my knowledge, and I will be researching this, nothing like this has happened before.”

Hermione looked at Harry with fearful eyes, then snuggled into him as they stood facing the adults.    He turned and enveloped her into his arms, whispering reassurance to her. Mrs. Granger looked like she was about to object, before Madam Pomfrey placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her head.

“Let them be,” The matron said quietly, “This is a lot to take in and they are each other’s rock.  They have been through so much together they are naturally going to lean on each other. Also, they made a promise between themselves the night they got hurt; no matter what happens, good or bad, they’d get through anything that happened together.”

“I know but,” Mrs. Granger said, “But I’m her mother.”

“True,” Poppy acknowledged, “But can you understand what she’s going through?  Or just able to give her empty platitudes? I’m not trying to be harsh, but that young man is the only person in the world, possibly in history, to have even a clue what your daughter is going through.  I know you want to comfort her, but he really is the best person to do that right now.”

“Madam Pomfrey?” Harry called out, drawing the women’s attention back to the teens, “What happens now?”


	4. Revelations

Revelations

“Now Mr. Potter,” McGonagall interrupted, returning to the kitchen with another, middle aged witch with red hair and a monocle.  “We need to discuss a few things with Madam Bones here, and find a solution that we can all live with.”

“Hello Madam Bones, I’m Anne Granger,” Mrs. Granger introduced herself, “I don’t mean to be rude but who exactly are you?”

“Amelia Bones, I am the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” The older witch introduced herself, then held up a hand.  “No, neither of the children are in trouble.”

“Then why are you here?” Anne asked.

“I’m here because a month ago Professor McGonagall informed me about the incident at school as she was required by law to do.  She also told me how vehemently these two defended Mr. Lupin and that they held themselves responsible for their infection. She also said they would readily and aggressively defend Mr. Lupin were he charged.” Madam Bones explained, “And he hasn’t been.  Madam Pomfrey provided information on the infection, again as required by law, and I placed a personal alert on the charms monitoring Miss Granger. I tried to place the same on Mr. Potter here but the charms were sealed by Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Sealed?  But aren’t you in charge of those charms?” Hermione asked

“Yes, they are sealed and redirected, which is why I’ll be having a separate discussion with him that he won’t enjoy.”

“I see,” Anne said, “Well what do you need from us now?”

“I need statements from Mr. Potter here about the charm he used at his residence.  I also need to discuss with you and your family the unique situation you find yourself in and how it will affect you.  I was also told that I might be interested in taking a memory of something that occurred earlier in the evening, before the attack.  Something about a dead man that wasn’t dead.”

Harry and Hermione looked shocked.  The shrieking shack. She wanted memories of the shrieking shack.  They looked at each other, remembering the various doings in that shack and what they could mean.

“Madam Bones,” Hermione asked uneasily, “What would you do with those memories?  We informed the Headmaster and the Minister of what had happened but Professor Snape lied to them and told them we were confounded.”

“Miss Granger, If you were to give me a complete memory, it would be possible to determine if you were confounded or not.” The Auror explained.  “But for now, let’s deal with the first two items since I suspect I’ll need to earn your trust for this.” She turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, please describe what happened tonight and how you got here.”

“Well, I got a note from Hermione calling for help.  I knew I had to do something, didn’t really know what but I’d promised her we’d get through this together and had to get to her.  I grabbed my emergency bag and”

“Emergency bag?” The auror cut in, “What is that?”

“It’s a bag with some supplies and money.” Harry explained, “General stuff in case I had to go somewhere and didn’t have time to pack.  Food, water, clothes, a couple maps. Stuff like that.”

“I see,” she nodded, “Please, continue.”

“Well,” Harry hesitated, and after a squeeze from Hermione continued, “I tried to leave and found my uncle had locked me in.”

“Locked you in?” The auror was obviously upset, “You mean he locked your door?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry confirmed slowly, “With 6 locks on the outside of my door.”

“And this is normal for you?” The room was deadly quiet.

“Yes ma’am, at least since I’ve had a room.”

“So all your life…”

“No ma’am,” Harry whispered, “Just since first year.”

“I don’t understand, did you not have a room before that?”

“No ma’am” the quiet stretched.

“Mr. Potter, please elaborate on your living arrangement before you returned from your first year at Hogwarts.  Describe your typical day and where you slept.” The head of the DMLE said in a very hard tone.

“Ma’am, I’d rather not upset…”

“Mr. Potter,” She cut in, her tone reminiscent of Professor McGonagall's no nonsense voice, “I currently suspect you are living in untenable conditions.  If I can confirm this, I can do something about it, but I need you to tell me everything.”

“I…” Harry’s voice shook in fear.

“It’s okay Harry,” Hermione reassured him, hugging him. “I really think she wants to help.”  Harry looked at her for a minute, relishing the unquestioning support in her eyes before he slowly began to describe his life before Hogwarts.

“My Aunt and Uncle don’t like magic, hate it would be a mild description.  Until I got my Hogwarts letter I’d never heard of magic. They told me my mum and dad were killed in a car crash they caused because they were drunks.  At about 4 I started doing the cleaning, at 5 I started cooking.”

“Were you the only one doing these chores?” Bones asked

“No ma’am, not at first.  To start my Aunt still did some, once I was older though, I did it all.”

“I see,” The monocle woman paused, “I’m given to understand you have a cousin, did he get the same treatment?”

“No ma’am, he was treated like a spoiled little… er, like he could do no wrong ma’am.  Always got big birthday parties and lots of presents, always got more each year. Trust me, he counted them.  He was also praised a lot, and I was… discouraged from ever doing anything better that him.”

“Uh huh, and what about your sleeping arrangements?”

“I was given the cupboard under the stairs until my letter came.”

“A Cupboard?!” the four women exclaimed in unison.  Looking at each other, Hermione blushed while McGonagall merely nodded to the auror to continue.

“And after your letter?” Madam Bones asked.

“After I was ‘allowed’ to use my cousins’ second bedroom, so long as I touched nothing and didn’t cause any trouble.  Last summer when a house elf caused trouble, they added the locks and bars.”

“What bars Mr. Potter?”

“They put bars over his window Madam Bones,” Hermione explained, “I thought the Weasleys were exaggerating when they told the story.  They weren’t were they Harry?”

“No”

“Well,” Madam Bones sighed, “It looks like my job isn’t done yet in this case, we’ll have to discuss this more Mr. Potter, and I will be accompanying you home to verify these conditions myself.”

“I will be as well Amelia,” McGonagall informed her, “I asked Albus several times about his home life and was assured all was well.  It seems either he didn’t know himself or knew and never told me. Either way I need to see for myself.”

“Me too.” Cut in Hermione, glaring defiantly

“Very well professor,” Madam Bones agreed, “You Miss Granger, we will see about later. Now, moving on,”

“Wait ma’am.” Hermione cut in, then look apologetically at Harry.  “Before we move on from this, I think you need to see something else.”

“And what is that?”

“Show them Harry.” Hermione said softly, pleading eyes boring into him.  He sighed and seemed to gather himself, as if he was about to do some great deed or endeavor.   Slowly, he lifted his shirt. The angry red welts of the werewolf strike were most evident. Then they noticed other scars, older and faded.  They didn’t cover all of his back, and there were almost none on his front, but they were obviously not normal kid scars. 

“Oh my” Madam Pomfrey said softly, “Mr. Potter, why did you never say anything?  I’ve examined you enough that I feel I’ve failed you that I never saw them before but why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know ma’am,” Harry said softly, “Most are old.  Since he found out about magic Dudley hasn’t really bullied me.”

“Your cousin did this?” Amelia cut in urgently.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry confirmed, “Most of them, some are from his friends.  They had this game they called ‘Harry Hunting’. They’d hunt me down and beat me up.”

“And your relative knew about this?” Minerva pressed.

“Yeah,” Harry replied sadly, “He’d get extra dessert if they did it really well.  He got a lot of extra deserts.”

“That’s enough.” Anne cut the others off, “That’s enough about this for now.  If you need more information you’ll just have to wait, this is causing both of them enough distress for now.  One thing this makes clear however, Harry will NOT be returning to them, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Nor if I do,” Madam Bones concurred, “We will have to return to gather his belongings, but he will not return to stay.  I don’t have a lot of pull, but I do liaise with a few members of muggle law enforcement, mostly squibs.” Noting Anne’s’ questioning look, she added “Non magic user born to magical parents.  Anyway, they should be able to help with an investigation.”

“Where would I go?  I don’t...” Harry began.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” Anne said, “I think Hermione would murder us if you didn’t.  After that, well, we’ll figure something out.”

“I have no objection to that,” The head of the DMLE agreed, “Due to the nature of the incident, and the apparent need, there will be no charges pressed for breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.  I did note that this would be your third however.”

“First was a house elf trying to keep me from going back to Hogwarts.  Second was accidental magic due to my Uncle's sister.” Harry explained, “This is my first intentional use outside of school.”

“House elf?  But,” Amelia started, then paused, “No, never mind, we’ll discuss that later.  The second thing we need to discuss tonight is what to do about the situation you two find yourselves in.”

“Amelia,” Pomfrey spoke up, “Due to the nature of the infection no longer being Lycanthropic, I’d like to request it not be recorded as such.”

“I can see that,” the Auror agreed, “But there are still questions about it that need answered I’m afraid.”

“I understand that Amelia,” McGonagall confirmed, “But it is not lycanthropy.  I agree this situation will need to be monitored, and with the permission of Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, some testing to better determine its exact nature is warranted.  However, I don’t think any restrictions should be placed on them outside of perhaps the next couple full moons spent being observed. Preferably by Madam Pomfrey. I also feel that due to the calming affect Mr. Potter has on her transformation, he should be allowed to accompany her during the full moon to alleviate any discomfort he can.”

“I agree with Minerva,” Poppy seconded.

“Would you be willing to include an Auror, one hand selected by myself and confirmed by both of you?  And forward me any information you determine in this process so long as it is not recorded within the DMLE outside my personal files?”

“I don’t see why not so long as Mr. and Mrs. Granger agree.” The deputy headmistress agreed.

“Honey, this is all about you, what do you think?” Anne Granger addressed the girl still curled into Harry’s arms.

“You won’t lock us up?  Won’t separate us?” Hermione’s quiet voice quavered as she asked.

“Not if we don’t have to,” Madam Pomfrey, “We might ask you two to separate to determine exactly how much Harry calms your transformation, but not as a regular or required occurrence unless it is absolutely required.  You have my word as a healer.”

The pair whispered quietly to each other, none of the adults were able to hear exactly what was being said.  The closeness was slightly worrying to Anne though, she felt almost as if she was losing a part of her daughter to this boy, but also saw how much she relied on him.  They finally separated enough to turn back to them, and added one final caveat.

“We agree, so long as we get veto power over any experiment concerning this unless it is required to save a life.” Hermione stated, “It may be a fascinating and unique occurrence, but it’s our lives and happiness that are threatened by it.  We want a say in how we proceed.”

“That’s reasonable, and is in line with my healer's oath.” Poppy said, then turned to the others, “Ladies?”

Three nods later, and a course was set.


	5. Summer

Summer

 

Later that day saw Professor McGonagall, Madam Bones, Mrs. Granger, Harry and Hermione back at Privet drive.  The scene that unfolded was eye opening to the four women.  Vernon Dursley's instant assumption that Harry had been a nuisance and assurance that he’d be thoroughly punished were bad enough.  The door slammed in Mrs. Granger's face before she could even say a word was worse.  The resulting discussion the Head of the DMLE had with all three Dursley’s put paid to any regrets Hermione had about not having her wand, she’d have ended up in Azkaban for sure.  Seeing Harry’s cupboard had Hermione attached to his arm as they packed his meager few belongings and school supplies.  A muggle restraining order later and the group left, with Madam Bones’ assurance that charges would be forthcoming.

The next few weeks flew by for the Grangers and their guest.  Once Hermione’s’ dad had driven home from the Leaky Cauldron, he agreed to his wife’s demand that Harry stay with them for a few days until his home situation was resolved.  After Madam Bones and Professor McGonagall had escorted Harry to Privet drive and had seen his living conditions, he became a ‘for the rest of the summer’ guest.  Madam Bones was working through her contacts in Muggle law enforcement to get it resolved legally but it would take time.

Hermione had almost fully recovered her usual features the next morning, the only issue being she still had ears and a tail. A few more tests from Madam Pomfrey indicated that they were effectively permanent, not affected by the moon. Harry assured her they only enhanced her looks, but she still felt like a freak. Not that she’d ever use that word around Harry again after the visit to the Dursley’s.  Working with Madam Pomfrey and Amelia Bones found that the tail was able to be hidden by wrapping around her waist and securing with a special wrap.  The ears were mostly covered by her hair and only stuck out a little.  Hats could cover it, but in the end, she was granted special dispensation from Madam Bones to cast Glamour charms to conceal them.  It wouldn’t last at Hogwarts, the wards and ambient magic would interfere with the charm long term, plus a simple _finite_ would cancel the charm, but it worked for the muggle world for now.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey became regular guests at the Grangers, as well as Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.  At first it was checking up on Harry and Hermione, but eventually they were being invited over as friends.  The teens had even seen Minerva McGonagall smile, something both would swear was impossible for the stoic Scotswoman. 

Spending the next month with Hermione had resulted in the best summer Harry had ever had, hands down. 

They’d finished their homework first.  Well, Hermione helped Harry finish his since she’d already finished hers, but it was still done.  Then they’d explored Crawley together, finding new ways to spend time together.  Harry’s favorite was the ice cream parlor three streets over.  Hermione’s was still her local library.  Anne and George, Hermione’s father, spent some time with them in the beginning, but slowly left them alone during the day as they returned to their surgery.  Weekends saw them taking small trips to local attractions.  They missed the pool and the beaches as Hermione’s glamour charms just weren’t up to beachwear, and Harry finally admitted to not being able to swim. 

Harry’s birthday was one of the best days of his life, the Grangers took them to a large amusement park, fighting the summer crowds to give Harry his first taste of muggle roller coasters.  Hermione drug him from one ride to the next, trying to find one that would scare him.  She failed as each ride just plastered a bigger and bigger smile on his face, which was actually her true goal.  A lunch of chips and burgers slowed them for a bit, but after several games were played it was back to the rides.  Anne and George joined them on the bumper cars, which was George's favorite ride, and he was a menace to all.  The other three finally teamed up to trap him and get their revenge. The thank you Harry had bashfully said to Anne and George at the end of the day made everyone's heart melt.  When he started to tear up when they responded that ‘that’s what family is for’, Hermione wrapped him up and held him until he got himself back together.  Unbeknownst to each of the others, every member of the Granger family swore to themselves to show Harry what it really meant to be family.

The ride home from the amusement park saw Anne grin as she looked in the back seat.  There, two exhausted teens sat, Hermione curled into Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s head resting on hers, and both sound asleep.  She commented on it to George, who merely said it was good for them.

“You’re not worried?” Anne asked her husband.

“No dear,” George replied, “The boy tried to put himself between a werewolf and our baby.  How can I be worried when the boy is willing to do that?”

“I know,” Anne sighed, “But I just don’t want to lose our little girl.”

“We won’t dear,” George reassured her, “At worst, we gain a son in a few years.”

 

____________ 

 

“Thank you once again for a lovely meal, Anne” Minerva McGonagall sighed, sitting back from the table.  It had been over three weeks since Hermione’s full moon episode, and the family had once again had a wonderful meal with the Deputy headmistress and the Hogwarts healer.

“Thank you Minerva,” Anne said, “It’s always a pleasure to have you over.”

“Thank you,” Poppy answered for them both, “However tonight isn’t just a social call.”

“Sunday?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, Sunday,” Pomfrey confirmed.

“What’s Sunday?” George asked confused.

“The full moon sir.” Harry supplied, “I assume you want to be here to monitor us?”

“That would be our preference,” McGonagall agreed, “Part of me wants to do it at Hogwarts, but I still haven’t been able to talk to Albus as he’s been on the Continent for the last month.”

“Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey addressed Hermione, “There are at least three things we’d like to try over the next few full moons.  The first is an unrestricted change, that is, one where there is nothing to prevent or calm your change.  Unfortunately that means no Mr. Potter as well.  This is to see just how the change affects you.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” Hermione said in a scared voice.

“It is actually the last one we wish to try,” Poppy reassured the girl, “We hope after several, call them restricted transformations, that it will be easier to handle.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Absolutely Miss Granger,” The healer replied, “Now the second, actually the first to be tried, we’d like to try is having Harry with you from the start.”  She paused, looking at the Granger parents, “This will likely entail them being in that same room, possibly sleeping there.  We thought that this would be more acceptable to you, if we did this first, while you’re here as well.  I’m hoping that it will allow Hermione to merely sleep through the night,  once the transformation is complete.”

“It certainly is an interesting theory,” George stated, “And something that would obviously be helpful to Hermione.” He paused, looking at his wife before continuing.  “They’d be monitored the entire time?”

“Of course sir,” McGonagall supplied, “Both Poppy and I will be there; nothing inappropriate will happen.”

“DAD!” Hermione whined,

“Sorry pumpkin,” George grinned, as Harry turned beat red, “You two are of that age, and close enough, that I worry.  There’s also the, I guess I’d call it Animalistic, side you described that could influence you.”

“Sir,” Harry cut in, still red, “While I do care for your daughter, we are not in that kind of relationship,” Harry paused his blush deepening, then pressed on.  “Yet.” Hermione’s turn to blush.  “But even if we were, I would never do anything with Hermione, unless I was sure she wanted it and was in complete control of herself.”

“Yet, Harry?” Hermione asked softly.

“Later, please” He sighed, knowing delaying was all he could do.

“Fine, but we will talk about this.”

Harry’s “Yes, Dear” had the adults at the table chuckling.  His frightened “Yes, sir” to George demanding a talk with him later as well, had them holding their sides.  Hermione squeezing his hand in support saw his smile return, before Anne continued the conversation.

“You said there were things you’d like to try, what is the third?”

“Since the infection is Lycanthropic in origin, we’d like to try using the wolfsbane potion.  We would administer it beforehand, and observe if any difference is evident.”

“What exactly does this potion do?” George inquired.

“Normally a werewolf transforms and the wolf takes over, the wizard or witch has no control and no memory of what they do while a wolf.” Hermione explained, “By taking the wolfsbane potion, a werewolf still transforms, they just retain their human minds when they do.”

“I had a question about that.” Harry said, “Something that has been bugging me actually.”

“What’s that dear?” Poppy asked.

“Well, Lycanthropy is only infectious to wizards and witches, not muggles or animals.  That’s why my dad and his friends became animagi, so they’d be safe around Moony when he changed, right?”

“That is correct.” McGonagall agreed, then looked over her spectacles at Harry. “Not that I approve of their doing so without guidance.”

“Message received Professor, but could becoming an animagus stop the werewolf transformation, if they did so before the full moon?”

Dead silence answered him.  He looked around the table to see George and Anne looking at the shocked professors.  McGonagall’s jaw was somewhere in the basement in astonishment, while both Hermione and Madam Pomfrey were deep in thought.

“I… I’ve never considered that,” Pomfrey stuttered, “I don’t know if anyone has.”

“Harry, that’s genius!” Hermione called as she jumped at him and bowled him over in a hug.

“Indeed, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall finally answered, “I am unaware of any research or even attempts to counter the werewolf transformation with an animagus transformation.  It certainly has merit.”

“I agree, I hope Mr. Lupin may be able to shed some light on this,” Poppy continued, “He may have tried when his friends did, or know more.  But if he doesn’t, perhaps we can convince him to try.”

“If he hasn’t, maybe we could try it?” Harry ventured, “We may not have a full transformation, but we feel the effects.”

“Mr. Potter, are you requesting Animagus training?” McGonagall asked cautiously.

“I’m not sure professor,” Harry answered honestly, “I won’t deny it’d be nice, both to alleviate the effects of the change and as a connection to my dad.  But it’s a lot to take on, and while I’ve always been decent at the practical side, my theory level of transfiguration hasn’t been the best.”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, “I think you’re brilliant.  You may not be able to put it in words, but you have always been able to understand the magic.  And…” She paused, “And I think part of your issue with the theory is Ron.”

“Ron?” Harry asked thoughtfully.

“Yes Harry,” She sighed, “You have to admit he is rather distracting.”

“I believe Miss Granger has a point Mr. Potter,” Minerva interjected, “Last year when you were having your… disagreement, your grades actually improved.  Whereas when Miss Granger here was petrified second year, the quality came up while the quantity went down.  I believe that was because you spent so much time reading to Miss Granger.  Your retention went up, but you lost track of time and weren’t able to apply it.”

“I never really thought about it,” Harry said softly, “Do you really think being his friend is bad for me?”

“No Harry,” Hermione quickly reassured him, “He’s still our friend, we just… we just need to reduce his influence on your school work is all.”

“So you are both saying I need to spend more time with Hermione in school?” Harry asked with a crooked grin, causing Hermione to blush.

“That is not how I would put it Mr. Potter,” Minerva fought a grin, “I would however say Miss Granger is a positive influence on your schoolwork while Mr. Weasley is not.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said thoughtfully, pausing, obviously reflecting over his history with Ron. “He’s my first friend, my first one ever.  I get that you’re looking out for me, and that you have a point about him being distracting.  But i also don’t have very many friends, real friends I mean.” he rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting, not wanting to voice the next bit.  “Almost everyone likes me for being the boy-who-lived, not for being Harry.  Ron does… I think.  I just don’t know.”

“It’s okay Harry,” Hermione squeezed his hand, “I know it’s a lot to think about it, but you will think about it, won’t you?”

“Well, in either case Mr. Potter,” McGonagall returned to the original point of the discussion, “I believe your theory has merit.  And while neither of you are affected to the point of change, the full moon is definitely an issue for you both.  If either or both of you decide to pursue this possibility, I shall make myself available to you.”

“Thank you professor,” Hermione answered for them, “We’ll think about it, and let you know when we arrive at Hogwarts.”

“Very well, Miss Granger,” Minerva continued, “Back to our original topic, however, if your parents are willing, we’d like to try seeing how you are affected with Mr. Potter near you from the start this full moon.  Poppy and I shall, of course, be here the entire time.  Then on Monday, Arthur will arrive to pick you both up for the Quidditch World Cup.”

“I think that would work out well Minerva,” Anne confirmed, “I’m glad this Quidditch thing is after the full moon.”

 

Later, Harry got pulled aside by George for their talk.  It went about as Harry expected.

“Harry,” the older man began, “I’m going to start by saying that you are welcome here, no matter what you answer.  I know you care for Hermione, and you would never hurt her intentionally.”

“”Okay” Harry responded nervously.

“Given what you said earlier, I have to ask this:  What are your intentions towards my daughter?”

“I’m not sure sir,” Harry sighed, then held up a hand to forestall George while he continued, “I don’t know because I’m still trying to figure out what I’m feeling and what it means.  She is my best friend, I know that for sure now.  But what is that supposed to feel like?  It’s not like what I felt towards Ron.  Is it because Ron’s a boy?  Because he never was my best friend?  Or because I want to be more than just best friends with Hermione?”

“And you don’t know?”

“No, sir,” Harry sighed, “I wish I did, because I really don’t want to hurt her.  But I was not raised in a way where I know what love or even affection is.  Not personally.  I know what everyone says it is, but I’ve never experienced it.  Hermione is the first person that I can remember giving me a hug.” He rubbed his cheek, “First kiss, too.” His eyes shot wide as he realized who he’d just admitted that to.  He quickly added “On the cheek, sir, it was on the cheek.”

George had to chuckle a bit.  “I understand Harry, and it’s good that you realize that.  What do you plan to do?”

“The first thing to do is to talk to her,” Harry admitted, “Though I’m not sure how.  I also need to ask her what she wants, because if she doesn’t want more, this whole thing is moot.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate,” George countered, “Sometimes a woman needs to be shown what she’s missing.  Shown that a man really is interested.”

“She does?” Harry asked, “Isn’t that like getting her to do something she doesn’t want to?  I don’t know that I could ever get Hermione to do something she didn’t want to.”

“I’d say you have a better chance than most,” George commented.  “I think talking to her is a good starting point, and while I understand it would be awkward for both of us, I promise to at least listen if you need help or advice.” He grinned, “And I also promise not to kill you for asking about anything of an intimate nature should you two decide to be more than just friends.  I’d rather have you ask and we both be embarrassed, than to screw something up.  Especially if you make me a grandfather before you both graduate.”

“No, sir I’d, uh” Harry stammered, unsure how to respond, “Sir, I appreciate your openness, and well, I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer, but I appreciate it.”

“I understand that, and appreciate your honesty.” George said, “Now that you have a plan, go talk to my daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to, Dad,” Hermione called from the doorway, causing both to turn quickly towards her, “I’m right here, and I heard everything.”

“Everything?” Harry asked nervously, “And… “

“Before this gets even more awkward, I’m going to let you two talk without an audience.” George cut in, “Just be sure to listen to each other before you decide.”

Hermione slowly walked into the room, her eyes flitting between Harry and the floor.  Harry seemed to be trying to figure out what to say without getting in trouble.  As George closed the door, he thought back to his comment to Anne on the drive back from the amusement park and wondered if he was a prophet.

“Y-you,” Harry stammered, swallowed, then began again, “You heard?”  Hermione Nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  “So, you know where I’m at now or at least what I’m trying to figure out.”  Another nod.  “Well, I guess the big question is, what do you feel towards me?”

Hermione stopped just in front of Harry, a half step away, and looked into his eyes.  He saw her wonder in those eyes, and her brain working behind that wonder.  Slowly, she smiled at him.

“Harry, I’m sorry i listened to your talk with Dad.  I just came to be sure he didn’t go into overprotective dad mode and scare you.  When i heard what you said i couldn’t stop listening.”  She paused, waiting for him.  His nod of understanding helped her continue.  “There has been a lot of change for us recently, so much change…  I know I think the world of you, how could I not?  You tried to put yourself between me and a werewolf.” She grabbed his hands, “I understand you need time, that you need to process everything.  I understand, and I will be here for you.  I know this whole Werecat or whatever thing we have probably isn’t helping, but I need you to understand one thing:  like everything else, we can figure this out together.”

“Hermione...”

“No, Harry, Let me finish.”  She cut him off, “When you saved me from the troll, I discovered.  When you went ahead in the potion room, I feared.  When I messed up my polyjuice potion, when you took me to the infirmary while Ron laughed at me, I felt.   When you sat with me, day after day while I was petrified, I realized.  When you placed yourself between me and Professor Lupin, I knew.  I knew Harry, that I’d be by your side forever, that no matter what, we’d be together.  I’m just starting to realize what that means, that I meant more than just as friends.  But when you ask what I want, it’s you Harry.  When you ask what I feel, it’s this Harry.”  And she slowly brought his head down to hers, and kissed him lightly.  “When you figure things out, I will be here.  Until then, just do what feels right.”


	6. The Second Moon

The Second Moon

 

Sunday came far too quickly for the residents of residents of 9 Astoria lane.  Neither Harry, nor Hermione, slept well the night before.  Madam Pomfrey had asked that they stay separated starting after dinner the night before until McGonagall and Pomfrey arrived the next day.  By the time the pair did arrive the next afternoon with a pink-haired auror in tow, both teens were irritable as hell.  The auror, introduced as ‘just Tonks’, settled into the living room and proclaimed she was just here if something went sideways and she would stay out of the way.  

A quick scan of each and Pomfrey let them see each other.  The results were startling.

“Harry!”

“Hermione!”

The pair were instantly hugging, and both sagged with relief once they touched.  They moved over to Harry’s bed, sat down, and Hermione instantly curled into his lap and hugged him.  Once he was assured she was ok, Harry looked up and tensed.  All four adults were looking at them in shock.

“What?” He asked.

“Harry,” Anne asked with a small grin, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but that looks rather closer than you two normally sit.”

“I guess it is,” Harry acknowledged, “It just feels right.  We discussed things the other day, after George and I talked.  We decided to give whatever this is time.”  He felt Hermione hum contentedly against his chest and grinned, “I’m not sure what you would call what we are, but we’re just kind of letting it happen.  We agreed not to push each other, to tell each other if something doesn’t feel right or is uncomfortable.  But mostly, we promised that no matter what, we’d always be friends.”

“I see,” Anne said, hand over her heart, “And this?” She waved her other hand at their current seating arrangement.

“This feels right,” Harry said simply, “Today has been stressful for both of us, and she needs comfort.  This is comfort for her, and as long as it is, I’ll be here for her.”

“Well, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey joined the conversation, “That is a very mature view.  And while I wish you all the luck in your endeavor, I do need the two of you to separate for a moment, so I can take another scan.”

“No.” The single response came from Hermione, who was trying to bury herself deeper into Harry’s chest.

“Hermione,” Harry consoled softly, “It’s to help make this easier for us.  It will just be for a minute.”

 “Actually, Miss Granger,” Poppy said softly, “I think I may be able to perform the scan while you hold hands, if that will make it easier, so long as you’re not standing too close to each other.  Then you can sit back down.”

The pair slowly got up, both seeming reluctant to reduce the contact.  They stood apart, holding hands still, as the healer performed several diagnostic spells.  Each felt a bit of a tingle as each spell passed over them, sending their information to the mediwitch.  As she nodded the last spells completion, Hermione melted into Harry’s side.  A sudden change in the information caused the mediwitch to start.  Looking closely as the projection from her wand, she gasped.  All heads turned to her as she quickly noted the changes to herself before canceling the spell.  Looking up, she saw everyone staring at her, curiosity in the eyes of all, but also fear from the teens.

“Nothing to worry over,” She assured them, “I just caught something unexpected that I need to research a bit more.  Nothing bad mind you, perhaps even good, but again, I need to look at some references.”

“What did you see?” Minerva asked, “It certainly appeared to be significant.”

“I’d rather not say yet,” Poppy demurred, “I would rather confirm what I suspect, before I comment further.  They seem fine so far and have a couple hours before moonrise, so I intend to return to Hogwarts for several reference books, if that is acceptable.  Minerva can summon me back rapidly if anything changes.”

“How long would you be gone?” George asked, still looking at the cuddling teens.

“It shouldn’t take too long to find the tomes I need,” Poppy assured them, “I would guess about an hour.”

“Dinner should be ready about six, so hurry back.” Anne commanded the matron.  “As for you two,” she continued, looking at the teens and grinning, “you behave.”

A muffled ‘yes ma’am’ was heard from both, though the adults knew the pair had barely heard them, as deep into the other’s well-being as they were.

 

___________________

 

The teens arrived downstairs to dinner looking much better, just as Madam Pomfrey returned.  As it was time to eat, any discussions were delayed until after the meal.  Once it was over however, the group sat down to discuss the evening and what they’d figured out so far.  Madam Pomfrey was still referencing a book she’d brought from Hogwarts, so McGonagall started.

“Tonight shall be about determining how well both of you fare when in close proximity to each other,” The Scotswoman explained.  “We believe merely sleeping in the same room shall accomplish this.”

“You believe?” Anne asked looking at the pair, who were sitting on the couch holding hands.

“Yes,” Minerva confirmed, “Both Poppy and myself admit we don’t know anything for sure, but we do believe that merely being close to each other will be enough.”

“And if it’s not?” George asked

“If it’s not, then it’s not” Hermione told her father, “And we’ll have a long uncomfortable night.  Nothing inappropriate will happen with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey in the room dad.”

“Sorry honey,” George said embarrassed, “I guess overprotective dad made his appearance after all.”

“It’s ok dad.” She sighed, “You’re not the only one on edge.”  She paused, then continued, “I’m going to bring this up merely as an idea, not advocating for or against, ok Dad?”

“Ok,” George said cautiously, “what is it?”

“Well,” Hermione blushed, “If sleeping in the same room isn’t enough... What about in the same bed?”

“WHAT?” her father exploded as expected.

“Calmly, dear, calmly” Anne put a restraining arm on her husband’s shoulder, “I’m assuming one point is that you’d be in closer contact, so more soothing to each other?  And point out that, with two people in the room monitoring you, nothing inappropriate would happen?”

“I’m not saying anything one way or another.” Hermione said, “I will say I trust Harry, and I trust that nothing will happen.  If you, any of you, decide no, then it won’t happen.  If you all decide yes, it will be a decision that Harry and I will make when it comes up.”

“Before the adults start to argue,” Poppy cut in, “May I cast one more spell on you two?  Just a rarely used diagnostic spell.  The results may help this discussion.”

“I guess,” Hermione sighed, moving to get up.

“No need to get up dear, this one actually requires you to be together” The matron stopped her.

“Together?” McGonagall looked at the healer, “Why would you need them..” her voice trailed off, “Surely not.  Not at their age.”

“Not what?” Anne demanded

“Just a moment and I shall explain,” Pomfrey interrupted, turning to the pair, she cast.  “ _In Vincula Revelare_ ”

A slight breeze was felt by the occupants of the room, before a halo of silver descended on the pair, flickering between them like wisps of smoke, with an occasional lighter flicker.  A bronze glow mottled silver glow surrounded their joined hands before it dissipated.  Everyone looked expectantly at Madam Pomfrey as she double checked the ancient volume she had, before answering the unasked question in the room.

“This is about what I expected,” She began, “The silver/bronze glow on their hands indicates a strong bond of friendship, no real surprise there.”  Everyone chuckled at that, “The silver however is a bit more interesting.  It could be an effect of their infection, the sense they have for each other, and the calming effect it produces.”

“I’m sensing a but coming,” Anne said

“There is indeed,” Poppy agreed, “And that is this:  it could also indicate the potential, _Potential_ I said, of another bond forming.  What kind of bond is unclear, but silver is almost the most serious bond color.  Gold being the deepest and, by far, the rarest.  Bronze, then red, blue, and green.  Purple and Black bonds are subjegative or parasitic, like say the imperious curse or a slave bond.  Not something you ever want to see.”

“So what you’re saying,” Hermione asked softly, “Is me and Harry have a very strong bond of friendship, with the potential of more, whether that’s this infection or another bond?”

“Yes dear,”

“Good,” Hermione sighed contentedly, then looked at Harry. “I knew we were good, now it’s just confirmed.”

            “I would classify it as more than just good Miss Granger,” Pomfrey interjected, “To put things in perspective, most marriage bonds, when visible, are at most bronze.  Silver is very rare.  Gold are considered soul mates and according to this work, has only occurred three times in history.”

            “Three times?” George asked.

            “Yes, as off 1796.” Pomfrey confirmed, “But that’s just the golden marriage bonds.  For our purposes, I suspect the friendship bonds, and whatever potential they have, will significantly increase their ability to calm each other tonight.”

 

___________________

 

            Later that night, Hermione joined Harry in his room.  Try as he might, George just could not allow himself to approve of a fourteen year old boy sleeping in his daughter’s room.  They’d laid down, Hermione on Harry’s bed, for he’d insisted.  Harry was on an air mattress across the room.  Pomfrey and McGonagall would sleep in shifts in Hermione’s room, and Tonks, the auror Bones had sent, had already commandeered the couch downstairs.

            Even at the beginning of the night, Pomfrey could tell both teens were restless.  Hermione had had a reportedly easier transformation once the moon rose, but it was still “Uncomfortable as hell”.  Hermione had once again transformed into a ‘werecat’, complete with fur, ears and tail.  Despite the discomfort, they actually helped Madam Pomfrey with some experiments.  They discovered both teens had heightened senses, though in this Hermione’s were more sensitive.  Both were easily agitated and the other easily calmed them down.

Currently both were tossing and turning, Hermione mumbling softly.  She made a note to speak to the other adults about giving them the option of sleeping in the same bed next time, when Harry started to cry out and started to flail about.

            “No.  NO.  Not Hermione!”  Harry cried, startling everyone in the house awake.  Before Pomfrey could even get out of her chair, Hermione had appeared by his side.

            “Harry?  Harry, it’s ok.” She soothed, wiping his sweat damp hair off his face, her tail curling around him.  He immediately settled, still obviously upset but not thrashing anymore.

            “What?” Tonks barely got out, before being shushed by Madam Pomfrey.  How the pink haired witch had made it upstairs before anyone else had even gotten their door open was a mystery.  

            Spying the doors to both other bedrooms opening, Pomfrey shooed the auror back into the hall and softly closed the door.  Signaling all was well, the other adults gathered around to hear what had happened.

            “Mr. Potter had a hell of a nightmare, what’s what you all heard.” She explained, “It was almost instantaneous.  Both are agitated, but this was something else.  Before i could even get up to check on him, Miss Granger was there.  And as soon as she was, he calmed significantly.”

            “Is he ok?” Anne asked, eyeing the doorway.

            “He appeared so, and if I had any doubts that Miss Granger could take care of anything that came up, I wouldn't be out here.”

            “So what now Poppy?” Minerva asked

            “Unless there’s a medical reason anyone objects, I intend to give Miss Granger the option discussed this evening.”  She stated matter-of-factly.  “I understand the other objections, but I can attest that they are under enough stress that anything that reduces the strain they’re under, is acceptable to me.”

            “I...” Anne paused, “Is it really that bad?”

            “Let me put it this way,” Poppy explained, “I fully expect to return to find both of them curled up on Mr. Potter's air mattress.  Assuming I am correct, the only thing I intend to do about it is to move them to the bed.”

            “But,” George started to say, before his wife stopped him.

            “Don’t, she’s right.” Anne told her husband, then turned back to the others. “Can we see them before we go back to bed?”

            “Let me check on them first and get them settled, then you can come in one at a time.  If they’ve gotten back to sleep, I don’t want to wake them.”

            A short while later, a slow parade of concerned adults passed through the room, each noting the peaceful, almost contented, look on the teen’s faces as they slept in each other’s arms.  After seeing that, not even George could object to the new sleeping arrangements.

 


	7. The Burrow and the World Cup

The Burrow and the World Cup

 

            Harry woke groggily, senses slow to awaken in the late morning sun.  He was warm, and his left side felt heavy and restrained.  It was a good kind of heavy, he thought, taking a deep breath.  His eyes shot open, and he was instantly alert as he inhaled the very familiar scent of Hermione.  Looking down, his heart started to race as he saw why his left side was heavy.  Hermione was sleeping there, curled up into the crook of his arm.

            _Her dad is going to kill me_ Harry thought, debating whether to try and extricate himself or just enjoy his last few minutes alive.  Realizing there was no way to get up without waking Hermione, and that she was far scarier than her father, he lay back and tried to relax into the bed.  _Bed?_   He thought, _how’d I end up in the bed?_

            “Easy Harry,” A calm voiced Anne soothed from the chair in the room.  “It’s ok.”

            Harry looked down at Hermione curled up against him, then looked back at Anne as if to say ‘Are you off your rocker?’

            “I know you probably think this looks bad, and her father is going to kill you,” An amused Anne chuckled, “But he was there when we all agreed to let you two finish the night together, and Madam Pomfrey moved you into the bed.”

            “What happened?” Harry asked groggily.

            “You had a bad nightmare.  Before Poppy could even get up, Hermione was there.  She calmed you down, and after seeing how content you both were, we agreed to let you sleep the rest of the night that way.”

            “Everything went ok though?” Harry pressed, “Hermione didn’t have as much trouble?”

            “Yes, everything is fine,” Anne reassured the teen, “Both Poppy and Minerva are content and expect that she should be able to weather the full moons at school without too much issue.  They went to bed once Hermione changed back.”

            “Good,” Harry sighed, looking down at the girl in his arms, “I’m glad she’ll be ok.”

            “Me too, dear,” Anne agreed, “But enough of that, it’s nearly time to go.  Let’s get you two up and dressed, so Mr. Weasley won’t be waiting on you two.”

            “Mr. Weasley?” Harry inquired, “Why would… Oh yeah, it’s the world cup tomorrow.”

            “Did you have to remind him, Mother?” Hermione’s sleepy voice came from Harry’s chest, “I was rather enjoying myself, until you got him wound up.”

            “Sorry dear,” Anne chuckled, “But Mr. Weasley will be here in about twenty minutes, so it was time to get up anyway.”

            A short time later, once the pair had dressed and finished packing, they made their way downstairs to breakfast. Hermione had styled her hair in such a way her ears were hidden, and could remain so until she was ready for others to see them. They had discussed it and decided telling all the Weasleys at once would be best.  

George was already there and nursing a cup of tea while reading the morning paper.  At the end of the table, a clearly ragged Auror Tonks was guarding her breakfast as if it would run away if she looked anywhere else.  Neither Hogwarts teacher was present, but Anne was humming away as she cooked more eggs in the kitchen.

            “Morning dad,” Hermione called, giggling to herself as Harry surreptitiously placed her between her dad and himself.

            “Morning kiddo,” George returned, “Sleep well?”

            “Oh yes, very well, thank you.” Hermione answered cheerily and managed to hold her laughter in for all of three or four seconds at Harry’s beat red blush in response to her answer.

            “Hurry up and eat you two,” Anne said, placing a plate in front of both of them, “Mr. Weasley should be here any minute.”

            Harry had just finished his toast when they heard two cracks from the back yard.  Poking her head into the living room to look out the back window, Anne commented “I do believe that Mr. Weasley has arrived.  And I’m guessing that’s one of his sons with him.”

            Harry and Hermione moved quickly to the back door, opening it to reveal Mr. Weasley and an older boy with the same shocking red hair.  Unlike his brothers, this Weasley brother had long straight hair pulled back in a ponytail.  He was dressed rather well in a pair of brown leather trousers, a tan linen tunic, and a Black dragon hide vest.  An earring that appeared to be made out of some creature’s tooth rounded out the outfit, for an overall rugged look.

            “Harry, Hermione,” Mr. Weasley greeted the pair, “This is Ron's’ oldest brother, Bill.  Are you both ready for the World cup?”

            “We are, Sir,” Harry answered for both, “Thank you again for having us.”

            “Of course, of course,” Mr. Weasley chuckled, then turned to the Grangers, “I’d love to stay and chat, but we have a portkey to catch.”

            “We understand,” George said, helping Harry and Hermione with their trunks.  “And thank you for taking them to King’s Cross after the Cup.”

            “No bother at all, I assure you.” Arthur said, as Bill shrunk the trunks and Hedwig’s cage, “I just wish they could have had more time with us this summer.”

            “Yeah,” Anne looked sideways at her husband, “Sorry about that, but we already had plans that couldn’t be changed.”

            “Oh, we understand,” Arthur assured the couple, then turned to the teens.  “It just would have been nice to have them around.  You both ready to go?”

            A nod from both, and they were split up.  Hermione with Arthur, and Harry with Bill.  A quick warning later, and Hermione and Arthur disappeared with a crack.  Harry started to exclaim but suddenly he felt himself being turned and felt like he was being squeezed through a rather small straw, before suddenly he was standing in front of the Burrow in the pre-dawn light.

            A rather tall edifice, it still defied logic in its haphazard look.  Hermione eyed the building warily, like she expected it to collapse at any moment.

            “It’s OK Hermione, it may not look like much, but it’s a lovely place.” Harry assured his best friend, then noted her look of disbelief, “Don’t worry Hermione, I promise it is perfectly safe.”

            “If you say so, Harry,” Hermione replied skeptically, taking his hand.

            As they entered the house, Harry was greeted with the familiar smell of fresh baking bread from the cozy kitchen.  He could see the sitting room through the doorway, and dishes were once again washing themselves in the sink.  Four of the other Weasley children were sitting around the table eating breakfast: Ginny, the twins, and Percy.

            “Harry!” 

            Harry only had about half a second to brace himself before Mrs. Weasley’s hug threatened to crack his ribs.  It was slightly suffocating and not entirely unexpected, yet also reassuring.  As Harry felt Hermione being pulled into the hug, he reflected on the differences between the Weasleys and the Grangers.  Both families had welcomed him, let him into their lives, but in such different ways.  The Weasleys had treated him as one of their own, tried to make him one of their own even.  Mrs. Weasley was a good woman, and Harry was sure she meant well but had basically taken over any choices he had, deciding what was best for him.  He hadn’t thought much of it before, but after his time at the Grangers, it was fairly obvious now.  Mrs. Weasley ruled her family with an iron will.  It was what she thought was best and that was it.  Compared to how he’d seen the Granger family function, it was like night and day.  The Grangers, while they may have had the final say, had discussed and accepted input from both Harry and Hermione before deciding anything.  They may have still decided on a path not preferred by either of the teens, but they had listened.  He hadn’t seen much of that at the Weasleys.

            “Well sit down and have yourselves some breakfast,” Molly commanded releasing the pair, “We‘ll get you fed up right before you’ve got to leave.”

            “Thank you Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione responded, “But we ate with my folks before we left.”

            “Oh,” A disappointed Mrs. Weasley sighed, “Well never mind that then, best be getting your things settled then.  You’ll be with Ginny, dear,” addressing Hermione, “And Harry, you’ll be with Ron.  Go on, and take your things up.  And Harry, dear, see if you can get Ron up, would you?”

            “Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, “Here, Hermione, I’ll help you with your trunk.”

 

_______________________

 

“Ron!” Harry said loudly, trying to wake the red-headed teen.

“Snarfel garf.” was the only response he seemed to be able to get.

“Here Harry, Let me try.” Hermione said from behind him.  Turning and spotting the witch with her wand out, Harry quickly cleared the line of fire, “Aguamenti.”

“Gerrofit!” cried Ron, bolting upright in his bed as the small stream of cold water splashed across his face.  “What’s the big idea?”

“It’s almost time to leave Ronald,” Hermione said sternly, “You’d best get going if you want any breakfast before we leave.”

“You could’ve just woke me up normally.” Ron retorted crustily.

“We tried mate,” Harry defended Hermione. “You refused to wake up.”

“Well,” the sullen boy continued, “you could have tried harder.”

“Oh lighten up, mate.” Harry replied, “It’s just a little water.”  Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione.  An arched eyebrow of question was met with a slight shake of her head, telling him she wasn’t ready to tell him yet.  “Come on, and get dressed mate, or you won’t get any breakfast.”

 

Once Ron had started eating a few minutes later, Hermione realized she was running out of time.  Screwing up her Gryffindor Courage, she stood from the table where everyone was discussing the coming day.  Taking a deep breath, she paused when she felt Harry's hand on hers in support, then began.

“Everyone,” she started, waiting for the side conversations to die down, “Something happened to me this summer you should know about.”

“What is it dear?” Molly asked concerned, “Are you ok?”

“Yes Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione continued, “But there are some things that have changed and as my friends, you need to know about them.”

“What happened dear?” Arthur asked.

“Well, second year I had a mishap with a contaminated potion.” Hermione began, sticking to the story Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had outlined for them, “Ron knows the one I’m talking about.”

“You mean the one where you tried to turn yourself into a cat?” Ron chuckled.

“RON!” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“What?” Ron protested, “It’s not my fault she messed up.”

“That’s not what happened and you know it,” Harry declared, standing by his friend. “Now shut up, and let Hermione finish.”

“Thanks Harry,” Hermione said quietly, “Well, despite Ron’s abhorrent thoughts on the matter, I am talking about the mishap that had me looking like a Cat for a week.”  She sighed, gathering herself.  She drew strength from Harry as he placed his hand on her shoulder in support.  “It seems that the potion wasn’t purged, but merely neutralized.  And it has returned, though not in the same force.” 

“What do you mean dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked confusedly.

Sighing, Hermione carefully pulled her wand out, and cast a quiet “Finite”.  A shimmer around her not only exposed ears, but drew the attention of the others to them.  The tawny ears peeking out of her bushy hair caused Molly to gasp.  The twins were mercifully silent, and Ginny had an odd look on her face but also kept quiet.  Ron however, spewed a mouthful of food across the table as his laughter broke loud and raucous through the air.

“Bwahaha,” Ron gasped for breath from laughing so hard, “Guess if we start finding hairballs around Gryffindor tower, we know who to blame.”  

“RON!” Molly gasped, shocked at her son, “Apologize this instant!”

“What?” Ron asked indignantly, “I was just teasing.” And tried to return to eating his breakfast, not noticing the looks around him.  Both twins slowly moved away from their brother, out of the path of any retribution.  Hermione had turned and been enfolded into a protective hug from Harry, while Molly looked ready to erupt at her youngest sons utter lack of respect.

“This is neither the time nor the place.” Molly cut Ron off, pulling his plate away from him. “Nor is it right to tease a friend like that.”

“But, Mum, it’s only Hermione.”

“Ron,” Harry’s quiet voice cut through the din surrounding Ron’s comment.  It spoke of cold, hard, barely leashed fury, as though anyone unfortunate enough to hear it would be lucky to live out the day.  “You need to apologize, and you need to do it now.”

“Yeah, sure, sorry Hermione.” Ron said off hand, oblivious to the tone of Harry’s warning.  He then tried to stab one last sausage off his plate before Molly got it out of reach.  He failed and a pout appeared on his face. “Bugger.  I was still eating that,” he complained to his mother.

“Not with that attitude you’re not.” Molly berated him, “Now get ready, you have to leave soon to catch the portkey.”

“Hermione?” Ginny asked softly.  Hermione looked up from where she’d buried herself in Harry’s arms, a flighty look in her eyes, like she was preparing herself to run.  “Do, do they work?  Your ears, i mean.  Do you hear out of them, or are they just kind of extra?”

“Yes, they are fully functional,” Harry responded for her, “She’s also very self-conscious about the changes since this has surfaced.  So, thank you for not making a big deal out of it.”

“Hermione” one of the twins started,

“Madam,” the other said as they both bowed to her.

“Such fine ears you have,”

“Such sweet ears indeed,”

“Please forgive our younger brother.”

“Our prat brother, you mean, dear brother,”

“Of course, less attractive brother, I meant that.”

“As you say, less intelligent brother,”

“As we were saying,”

“We still like you, dear Hermione,”

“And we love those ears,”

“Harry, too.  Even if somewhat more so,”

“He does?”

“Can’t you seen it?”

“Ah yes, the reddening of the truth,”

“The blush of bewilderment,”

“The ear tips from an earful,”

“STOP!” Hermione cried, grinning a little. “You’re making my head hurt.”

“Perish the thought,” one of the twins grinned back, before the pair caught the look their mother was giving them, and they beat a hasty retreat.

 

 ____________________

 

            The next morning, Harry was wondering if he’d ever have anything approaching a normal experience.  Oh, despite Ron being a massive git, the day had started fairly well, all things considered.  After Hermione’s admission, the Weasleys as a whole had been supportive, even Mrs. Weasley in her own smothering sort of way.  Ginny, while still quiet and withdrawn, had been accepting of Hermione’s new circumstances, though the odd looks she kept throwing Hermione and he were different.  A short hike later, after meeting Cedric Diggory and his father, Harry had discovered yet another means of magical transportation that hated him: Portkeys.  

            Apparently, just about anything can be made into a portkey, but wizards, in their infinite wisdom, chose the most unusual, preferably fetid, items imaginable.  A dank, mangy, old boot had Harry and company spinning and twisting for over a minute before depositing them in an unceremonious pile hundreds of miles from where they started.  About the only good thing that had come out of that was he’d landed underneath Hermione, rather than the other way around.  He could have done without having his face mashed into the remains of the boot, however.

            After extricating themselves from the piles, and Harry had helped Mr. Weasley pay the poor muggle farmer for the campsite, things seemed to be going well.  They’d set up the wizard tent Mr. Weasley had borrowed, and together with Fred, George, Ginny, and a reluctant Ron, Harry and Hermione had set off exploring.  It didn’t take long for a sullen Ron to go off on his own, joined by a still quiet Ginny.  The twins had run off to find their friend Lee Jordan, leaving just Harry and Hermione to meander the stalls of the market that had sprung up.

            They’d made their way towards the stadium erected for the event, browsing on their way there before making their purchases on the way back.  Despite her protests, Harry insisted on buying both of them a pair of omnioculars.  He also bought a rosette and Hermione found a book on the history of the world cup, probably the only thing quidditch related that she’d buy.  

            The game itself was interesting.  After helping Mr. Weasley stop Ron and the Twins from making fools of themselves when the Bulgarian Veela appeared, Harry, who was curiously unaffected, and Hermione had settled down to enjoy the game.  Harry was confused at the nod he received from the Bulgarian Minister, but he’d nodded back, and returned his attention to the game.  As he watched the action, Harry reflected back on his own quidditch playing, and how it compared to the game he was seeing.  When Krum ran Lynch into the ground with his Wronski Feint, he was excited to try it but looked over at Hermione and realized just how he must make her feel each time he played.  And how justified her anger at him for worrying her after each of the many times he’d gotten hurt was.  He resolved to do better, somehow, in the future, but still wanted to try it.

            The celebration afterwards was incredible; the Irish really knew how to get their party on.  Until the Death Eaters had shown up, that is.  The cries of joy and booms of fireworks morphed into cries of pain and booms of spellfire with startling suddenness.  Chaos reigned and panic ensued.  Fred and George were placed in charge of Ginny as Mr. Weasley and Bill went to help.  The six of them had run for the woods, before getting separated.  The twins and Ginny had run off with the crowd, leaving Harry and Hermione with Ron.  

            Once they made the forest, the trouble started.  First, Ron had much more trouble than either Harry or Hermione navigating the darkened trees.  Trying to help their struggling friend just seemed to make it worse.   They happened upon Draco Malfoy, leaning on a tree at the top of a hill, staring back at the burning campsites in rapt fascination.  While Harry fended off his crass comments about ‘muggles getting their just treatment’, Ron disappeared.  

            Searching for their lost friend proved fruitless, even with the heightened senses of the two teens.  There was just too much chaos.  They backtracked, searching for a way to find their friends, looking for any sign of organization or someone in charge.  They found none; they did, however, find a Death Eater.  

            They found a single Death Eater after hearing someone shout ‘Morsmordre’.  The flash of green that accompanied the cry had them slinking closer, trying to figure out what was going on.  The lone figure, standing in the middle of a clearing, stood over a crumpled form and was looking up, seeming to bask in the eerie green light coming from above.  Looking up, they spied the source: a giant glowing green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

            “The Dark Mark,” Hermione gasped, tightening her grip on Harry’s arm.  

            “He must be one of them,” Harry whispered, watching as the man’s attention returned to the figure on the ground, a red-headed figure.  It was Ron! “That’s Ron.”

            Before Hermione could act, Harry was moving.  He slipped out of her grip and brought his wand up, calling out “Stupefy!” as he started to circle the figure clockwise.  

            A negligent sweep of the figure’s wand deflected his stunner, and a chuckle escaped the man's lips.

            “No time now, Potter,” he cackled, “Don’t worry though, the master has plans for you; your time will come.”

            Seeing Hermione behind the man, Harry sent another pair of stunners at him, as Hermione quietly cast her curse at the man’s back.  He dodged Harry’s attacks, but the red bolt of Hermione’s curse struck true, and his wand was ripped from his hand as it sailed towards Hermione.  The figure twirled, seeing Hermione for the first time.

            “You’ll get yours as well, Mudblood,” He snarled.  He started to continue when multiple Cracks sounded, cutting him off.  Multiple spells flew through the air, as Harry dove to the ground to avoid being hit.  He never saw exactly what happened to the man, but he did hear another crack come from his direction before there were more shouts.

            “Cease fire,” Mr. Weasley was yelling, running to the center of the clearing. “That’s my son!”

            Another man in Ministry robes hurried up as Harry and Hermione joined Arthur by his son.  “Which of you did it, which of you conjured the Mark?” He demanded, pointing his wand at each in turn.

            “Barty!, They’re just kids,” Amelia Bones’ voice cut through the din, “I’m sure neither Mr. Potter nor Miss Granger conjured the mark.”

            “They were found at the scene Amelia,” the older man continued, undeterred. “One of them must have done it.”

            “No sir,” Hermione said with a forced calm, “There was another man here.  He overpowered Ron and used his wand to conjure the mark.  We managed to disarm him, but he disapparated when you appeared.”

            “Likely story,” The man continued, turning his wand towards Hermione.

            “Stop terrorizing the children, Barty!” Amelia barked, shoving his wand away from Hermione, noting that Harry’s wand finally lowered as well.  She hadn’t seen it rise. “How’s the boy, Arthur?”

            “Just stunned,” Mr. Weasley responded, “He’ll be right as rain in a few.”

            “Good.  Take your children home, Arthur,” Amelia instructed. “Then come in to the Ministry.  It’s going to be a long day.”

 


	8. Return to Hogwarts

Return to Hogwarts

 

The next few days before their return to Hogwarts were hectic to say the least.  Once Mr. Weasley and Bill had brought the teens back to the Burrow, they didn’t see him or Percy again until just before bed that night.  Molly, of course, insisted on checking every one of her children over herself, twice.  Harry was a bit put out when he got three checks himself, while Hermione barely got a second glance.   Once the Weasley matriarch had assured herself of their well-being, she shooed them all off to bed, practically throwing them into separate rooms.

When everyone had woken back up, the oddness continued.  Harry tried to talk to Hermione, even Ron, but Molly kept dividing them up, sending Harry and Ron outside to work while she kept Ginny and Hermione inside.  As for the twins, well, Harry wasn’t quite sure what they were up to.  Harry figured it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t help but feel like something was off.  The fact that it took till the day before they left for Hogwarts to get time alone with Hermione, while he was practically shoved off with either of the Weasleys at every turn didn’t help his suspicion.

While working with Ron wasn’t bad, he’d actually gotten on Harry’s nerves with his irreverence.  It had gotten so bad that finally getting to talk to Hermione the day before they left for Hogwarts was a relief.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Harry asked quietly, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t come across them talking in the laundry room before they were done.

“I...” Hermione hesitated, “I don’t know Harry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just hoped I’d have more support.” Hermione admitted, “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been wonderful, but I thought Ron and Ginny would be more helpful.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry agreed, “Ron has been a right prat, but I don’t know if it’s him or something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, something just feels off.  Ron is still Ron, i think,” Harry hesitated, “But it’s almost like there’s something he dislikes and is acting out, but I have no idea what it is.  And Ginny, Ginny is almost too friendly.  At least to me, to you she is almost hostile.”

“I know,” Hermione admitted, “I feel the same things but thought I was just being paranoid.”

“Well, whatever it is, we only have one more day here.” Harry reassured her, “Plus we’ll get away from whatever that smell is.”

“Smell?”

“Yeah, there’s an odd smell, two in fact,” Harry explained, “Started smelling them when we got here and they bother me.  But we’ll be gone tomorrow, so nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, then we just have a castle full of idiots to deal with.” Hermione sniped.

“Hey now, I’m sure that they won’t all be bad.” Harry tried to placate her.

“No,” Hermione sighed, “Just the Slytherins.  The claws and the puffs will ignore it, and the gryfs will either isolate me or appear to support but disappear in the crunch.”

“That does seem to be their modus operandi doesn’t it.”

“There you are dears,” Molly sad as she burst in, “Hermione, Ginny needs help finishing packing, Harry, could you please help Ron finish degnoming the garden, dear?”

With a furtive glance at each other, they sighed and moved off their separate ways to do the Weasley Matriarch’s bidding.

 

———

 

Platform 9 ¾ was a busy, bustling throng of people the next day, as it was every September the first.  And as with every other September first, the Weasleys were running late.  

Harry and Hermione quickly said their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley as they arrived on the platform, claiming they were going to try and find a compartment.  Whether they were believed, or Mrs. Weasley was too busy triple checking her own children all had their belongings, they managed to extricate themselves from the redhead swarm.  Stacking their trunks and each taking a side, they made their way aboard and searched for a compartment.

“Hi Neville,” Hermione greeted their classmate, whom they found sitting alone.  “Mind if we join you?

“Wha?” Neville stirred, looking at them confused, “Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks mate,” Harry thanked him, “Trains getting pretty full.”

“How was your summer?” Hermione inquired as she and Harry stowed their school trunks.

“Good, I guess.  How was yours?” the shy Gryffindor asked.

“Rather good actually,” Harry said, sneaking a glance at Hermione, “One of the best I’ve had for the most part.  Could have done without the aftermath of the World Cup though.”

“I heard about that,” Neville said excitedly, “Was it as bad is they made it sound?”

“Not sure what they said,” Hermione sighed, seating herself next to Harry. “But it was probably worse.”

“Oh,” Neville said quietly, “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it then?”

“Not really, Neville,” Harry admitted, “The match itself was nice, even looking around at the vendors was nice, but the aftermath was a nightmare.”

“True,” Hermione joined in, “The vendors were nice, thanks again for the omnioculars Harry, but I wish the Death Eaters hadn’t shown up.”

“I bet,” Neville responded, “Did you see any of them?”

“Just one,” Harry said softly, then jumped as Ron threw the door open.

“Hey guys, what’re you doing here?” Ron asked loudly, ignoring Neville.

“We were talking to Neville about the World cup.” Harry told his friend.

“Oh,” Ron paused for a second, “Well, we got a compartment the next carriage down, Come on then.”

“Why?” asked Hermione, “And who is we?”

“We is us, silly.” Ron said exasperated, “The three of us.  Ginny is there too, holding it for us.  But she said she may go see her friends later.  Come on.”  As he was speaking, Ron was reaching up and trying to pull the trunks down from the overhead.  It was hard because the two he’d come to fetch weren’t getting up to help him.  “You two could help you know.”

“Ron, leave my trunk alone.” Harry interjected.

“Fine, get it yourself.”

“There’s no need Ron,” Harry informed the redhead, “It’s fine where it is.”

“What?” Ron looked appalled, “You mean you want to sit here?”

“Why wouldn’t i?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Ron lowered his voice, “It’s Neville.”

“And just what, may I ask, is wrong with sitting with Neville?” Hermione asked haughtily, clearly upset with the implication.

“Nothing,” Ron temporalized, before adding, “If there’s no other options.  But if you can have your own compartment, why not?”

“We do have our own compartment,” Hermione pointed out darkly.

“Errr, ok then,” Ron said, noting the glare “no need to get your whiskers in a twist.”

Seeing Hermione's face shatter, Ron started to smile at his successful joke before he was staring into the hardest and scariest green eyes he’d ever seen.  Ron knew Harry was powerful, but having those cold glowing eyes boring into him was something he never thought he’d see.  Whatever he’d been about to say died as every thought other than _Run_ left this head.

“Ron,” Harry said softly, yet with more menace than Ron had ever heard, “Because of our friendship, you have three seconds to leave before you don’t leave without parts missing.”

“Mate…”

“One.”

“Come on, Harry, it’s just,”

“Two”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, don’t get your tail in a...” Ron never got to finish.

The Hogwarts express saw its occasional tussles, as emotions ran high from leaving family and seeing friends after the long summer.  Usually it was just heated words or the occasional jinx.  And outright violence was rare.  Even rarer was the sight of a fourth year redhead impersonating a missile as he was hurled bodily down the train.  This year, however, that was exactly the sight many saw as Harry forcibly ejected Ron and sent him flying down the corridor.  The 6th year Ravenclaw prefect that happened to see the incident noted no wand was visible, and the glowing eyes of the black haired teen radiating power as he turned back into his compartment, and decided to leave it alone.  It was too early in the year for this and he was privately glad Harry had wised up to his friends’ attitude.  The slam of the compartment door followed.

Harry turned from closing the compartment door far harder than he usually did, to find Neville staring at him in shock.  Hermione however, was where Harry’s attention went.  Her ears poked through her hair as she started to shake.

“It’s ok,” Harry said, pulling her into a hug, “He was just being a git, nothing new there.”

“Why?” She sobbed, turning and crying into his shoulder.

“Damned if I know,” Harry admitted, “I thought he was ok, but now I'm not so sure.”

“Uh, guys?” Neville asked fearfully, “What was that about?”

“I’m not sure Neville,” Harry admitted, turning his head to the Gryffindor, “He’s been acting odd lately.”

“He’s been acting odd? Harry, your eyes glowed.” Neville stammered out.

“They did?” Harry asked, shocked.  He looked to Hermione for confirmation.

“They did Harry,” She confirmed.

“Well that’s new.” Harry chuckled, then turned back to Neville, “Don’t worry Neville, I promise not to toss you out.  Least not if you are civil, unlike the redheaded git.”

Neville nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak to the pair yet.   He did however notice something odd.  It looked like… yes, Harry was idly stroking Hermione’s hair, and when he did, something poked out of her hair.  Curious, but not wanting to get too close just yet, the sandy haired teen leaned to the side.  It looked like some kind of animal ear peeking out of Hermione’s hair.

“Guys,” Neville began shakily, and pointed to Hermione’s head.  “I’m not meaning to be rude, but are those ears?”

“Yes Neville,” Hermione confirmed nervously.  “It’s one of the things that changed this summer.  You remember...”

Hermione was cut off by the compartment door opening again.  This time, a droll, snobbish voice interrupted them.

“I see you finally wised up, Potter,” Draco Malfoy declared, “Got rid of the garbage you’ve been hanging out with.”  He looked at Hermione still in Harry’s arms, “Well, some of it at least.”

This apparently was rather humorous as both the boorish bookends known as Crabbe and Goyle, famous for following Malfoy everywhere, chuckled along with the blonde ponce.

“I see you still have to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find trolls dumber than you,” Harry retorted, causing the aforementioned trolls to stop chuckling and look confused.

“Why I ought to...”

“You ought to what?” Hermione cut off the usual comeback, “Run to daddy?  Cry because everyone else in the year scored higher than you?”

“I see while you did clean house, you tossed the wrong garbage away.” Malfoy sneered, noting the ears on Hermione’s head, “At least Weasley was a pureblood, blood traitor that he is, and not a Mudblood creature like...”

All Malfoy saw was a flash of green eyes, a rapid change in perspective, and blackness.  Outside the compartment however, people saw Draco Malfoy, blonde prince of Slytherin, fly out of the compartment and impact the far wall 5 feet off the ground and upside down.  Half a second later his overgrown henchmen followed suit and the pile fell to the ground in a heap.

“Excuse me,” a tall teen in Ravenclaw robes and a Prefect’s badge poked his head around the doorway.

“Hi Roger,” Harry said, trying to seem cheerful and failing.

“I couldn’t help but notice several people have been,” Roger Davies paused, then continued with a grin, “Expeditiously expelled shall we say?  Is there an issue I, or my fellow prefects, should be aware of?”

“Just some bigoted individuals that can’t be civil and rapidly wore out their welcome.” Harry explained.  “As long as people are nice and don’t make bigoted or derogatory statements about the people in this compartment, there is no issue.”

“And what spells did you use?”

“No spells,” Harry said slyly, “My wand is still in my trunk in fact.”

“I see,” Roger paused, “If I may, was there a particular issue upon which comments were made?  Maybe something I should pass on to the other prefects to pass around as best to be avoided?”

“I guess that’s not a bad idea,” Hermione hesitated, then stepped around Harry to allow Roger full view of her.  She pulled the hidden release for her tail wrap, and smoothed down her hair to reveal her ears.  “The biggest issue would be my new look.  If you recall, I had a potions mishap my second year.  At the time it was thought I had no after effects.  This summer proved that wrong.”

“I see that,” Roger smiled, “May I say Miss Granger these new features only enhance your beauty.” He noted Harry looking at him appraisingly, then added “And I mean that sincerely.”

“Thank you”

“I assume there will be an announcement about it at dinner?” Roger asked.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were consulted when it appeared,” Hermione confirmed, “They told me there’d be an announcement about it at the welcoming feast.”

“Good, I can tell everyone that they’ll get the information they need to know at the feast, and to be polite about it.” Roger paused, then forged ahead with the question burning in his mind, “Are they functional?  I mean, do you hear out of the new ears or your old?”

“I’m not sure to be honest,” Hermione admitted, recognizing true curiosity, “I’m supposed to have some tests with Madam Pomfrey to determine the full extent of the changes over the next couple months.”

“Interesting.  Well, as I can see no rules that have been broken, I’ll wish you a pleasant journey.” Roger told them as he waved goodbye and slowly closed the door.

 


	9. A New Year Begins

A new year begins

 

The rest of the train ride was fairly uneventful.  The twins tried to apologize for their brother, only to be told the apology would have to come from him.  Adding that it would have to be sincere had their faces falling, before acknowledging it was only fair.  Ginny tried to visit, but her apparent inability to speak to Hermione, focusing just on Harry, quickly saw to her departure.  The Trolley witch made her rounds at lunch, and Neville taught the pair that she not only sold sweets, but lunches as well.  A filling meal of roast chicken and potatoes later, and everyone settled in to relax.  As darkness began to fall, Hermione expelled the boys so she could change, before letting them do the same.  Though embarrassed that they did change one at a time, ensuring she was never alone outside the compartment, she did feel a bit of gratitude over the gesture.

Hogsmeade station was the same as it was every year, packed with teens and their baggage.  Harry and Hermione held hands so as not to lose each other in the throng.  They stopped to say hello to Hagrid, who made them promise to visit soon, and joined Neville at the carriages.  They managed to get a carriage with Neville and Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff for the ride up.  The pair of puffs were nice, only complimenting Hermione’s ears and asking how she dealt with her tail.  

“It was hard at first,” Hermione explained carefully, as said tail curled over Harry’s shoulder.  “I had to keep it in a special wrap.  But now it’s not as bad, I just have to remember not to let anyone sit on it.”

“I see,” Susan said blushing a bit, “And what about…” She paused, glancing meaningfully at the boys.  “How do you…”

“That,” Hermione said exasperated, “Will not be mentioned.  Ever.”

“Sorry about her,” Hannah said quickly, “She has no filter.”

“It’s ok, Hannah,” Hermione sighed, “I understand curiosity, but I’m not talking about it.”

The rest of the ride was in companionable, if awkward silence.  The Hufflepuff girls obviously wanted to know more, but were afraid to ask, settling for disconcerting looks at Hermione.  Harry’s hand squeezing hers reassured Hermione that while he may not know what happened, he supported her.  She smiled back, basking in his support.

There was a noticeable, if minor, drop in the general murmur of conversation as they entered the Great Hall for the feast.  Hermione paused as she saw many eyes turn towards her, seeming to appraise or evaluate her.  Harry pulled her onward and found them seats along the outside of the Gryffindor table.  He’d debated sitting on the inside, with their backs to the hall, but figured that while seeing all the stares might be bad, seeing any hexes or someone positioning to pull Hermione’s tail was worth it. 

Neville sat on Hermione’s other side, while the twins shared a look before leaving their friends to join then across the table.  Harry nodded his thanks to the terrible twosome before the hall quieted, signaling the start of the Sorting.

Professor McGonagall led the tiny first years, awe plastered over their faces, to the front of the hall.  Several looked nervous, looking around like they were looking for a threat.  

“Were we ever that small?” Harry asked quietly, trying to distract Hermione.

Hermione, of course, realized what Harry was doing, but smiled despite it.  “Yes Harry, we were.  As I recall, you were even smaller.”

Harry grinned back, knowing he’d been caught.  He’d never expected to actually get away with it, but he was happy now that Hermione had relaxed a bit.  Nodding towards the sorting hat, they turned to wait for his annual song.

 

_Another year has come and gone_

_And now there’s sorting to be done_

_And as before, in those years past_

_Once more must the die be cast_

_But this year, like none before_

_Must you hear this warning in your core_

_Listen wiley Slytherin_

_Keep ambition within_

_Ravenclaws young and old_

_With knowledge you cannot hold_

_Hufflepuffs, with all your care_

_Must think before you dare_

_And Gryffindors so bold_

_Learn from days of old_

_There is much in balance these days ahead_

_Friendships shall keep you in good stead_

_Friends from far and near_

_Hold close what you hold dear_

_Now the doom and gloom are gone_

_There’s sorting to be done!_

 

The hall stilled in shock for a moment as the unusual warning from the Sorting Hat rang through the halls.  A dull murmur started up, as neighbor turned to neighbor to try to decipher the words.  Harry turned to look at Hermione, then nodded to her slight shake of the head.  She didn’t know either.  They sat and watched, cheering each new Gryffindor, each reflecting on the happenings of the last year, and the year ahead.  The food came and went, and they waited for the big announcement.  Both Mr. Weasley and Percy had hinted at some big to-do at Hogwarts, yet refused to tell them.  

“Your attention, please.” Dumbledore called, rising to stand at his podium.  “Now that we’ve all eaten our fill, there are a few start of term announcements to make.  First off, the new students are warned that the forest on the grounds is off limits to all students, and a few of the older students would do well to remember that as well.  Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to inform you he has added Fanged Frisbees, Quivering Quills, Ever-bashing Boomerangs, and several other items to the banned items list, the full 487 item list is posted outside his office.”

“Oh goody, new ideas,” whispered one twin.

“Time to pay another visit,” confirmed the other.

“In addition, many of you will have noticed a particular student has returned to us uniquely changed from when she left us last year.  Miss Granger has unfortunately experienced a partial relapse from her potions mishap two years ago.  I warn you now, any action taken towards her in malice because of this will be dealt with most severely.  Which reminds me, it has come to my attention that some of you have already made comments about Miss Granger that were most unbecoming.  Because of this, Slytherin is docked 40 points.”

“That’s not fair,” Malfoy called loudly over the rumbles from Slytherin, “Assigning point deductions for calling the girl a name before anything was said?  That’s a gross abuse of power!”

“I agree, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore responded sagely, “and though i feel any abusive comment a student makes to another should be punishable, the rules do not allow this. Which is why I only deducted 40 points for the use of a most ugly term for one's blood status, and not the additional 150 for referring to Miss Granger as a creature.  That shall be the proscribed punishment from now on, If you still think this is unfair, I’d be pleased to discuss proper decorum with you during a detention…”

Malfoys surly “No Sir.” was almost drowned out in the hubbub of the point deduction associated with such a comment.  150 points made it the highest prescribed point deduction in the school, even Snape had only ever deducted 100 points at a time.  This was cut off as the enchanted ceiling suddenly darkened and lighting crashed across it, startling everyone with the sudden change.  From the corner by the anteroom, a jet of light blue lanced at the ceiling, which calmed just as rapidly as it had risen.

The room turned to look at the grizzled, scarred man that had cast the spell.  Heavy set and leaning on a staff, Half his nose and his left eye missing, replaced by a rapidly-spinning, obviously magical eye.  His wizened hair and scarred face left the observer with the impression this man had seen many dark and deadly things in his life.  Dumbledore was obviously expecting him, as he walked over and shook the man's hand as one would greet an old friend.

“That’s Mad-eye Moody,” one twin mumbled.

“The Auror?” Neville asked with a hint of fear.

“Auror?” Hermione repeated

“Dark wizard catcher,” the other twin explained.

“Yeah, half the cells in Azkaban are full due to him.” The first rejoined.

“This is Professor Moody; he will be your Defense against the Dark Arts instructor this year.” Dumbledore resumed addressing everyone.  “And finally, there will be no Quidditch this year.”

The hall erupted as every table started complaining and objecting.  Dumbledore stood patiently for a few moments, before sending a few cannon-blast spells off to quiet the hall back down.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “There will be no Quidditch this year as we will be hosting a rather momentous event this year:  The Triwizard Tournament.” He again waited for the din to die down.

“Eternal Glory!” He announced loudly, “That is what awaits the winner of this event.  However, this is not for the faint of heart.  This competition will test you, and should you survive, change you.  Because of this danger, the ministry has decreed that no student not of age shall be allowed to compete.”  The roar was bigger this time, “No enough of this, the other school shall arrive at the end of October, and the champions shall be selected then.  Now off to bed.”

The pair made their way up to the tower, ignoring the slight distance everyone seemed to be giving them.

 

—————

 

The next day was rather stressful for Hermione.  She’d managed to escape to her room and behind her curtains fairly quickly the night before, avoiding the inevitable questions of her housemates and especially her roommates.  This morning however, it was open season.  Parvati and Lavender, the gossip queens of Gryffindor, had tried three times so far to corner her and it was only breakfast.  Harry tried to run interference, but he was no match for them.  Once she had her schedule, she had hastily retreated, with Harry in tow, to a disused section of the castle.  

“You ok?” Harry asked her, drawing her quivering form into a hug.

“I don’t know, Harry,” She admitted, “I’m trying not to let it get to me, but I’m already fraying and it’s not even the first period.”

“Well, I’ll be with you all day today, it’s Charms, Care, and DADA today.” Harry reassured her, “The only place I won’t be able to follow and protect you is the loo.”

“Harry, I don’t need…” She trailed off as he drew back slightly so she could see his raised eyebrow.  “Okay, maybe I do need some support, at least today.”

“Well, you have it every day from me.” Harry told her, “Now come on, let’s get to class before we’re late.”

The day actually went fairly smooth after that.  Parvati and Lavender had apparently been threatened by Neville, of all people, to lay off Hermione.  It was so rare to see the youth so vociferous that the gossip queens had actually paid heed.  Professor Flitwick had treated Hermione as he always had, which was to say she earned 10 points by the time class was over.  Hagrid had welcomed her warmly, before introducing some weird, never before heard of species called a Skrewt.  Neither Harry, nor Hermione, thought they were natural, but couldn’t study them very easily as they all seemed to run from them.

After lunch they had DADA, with Moody.  They’d heard at lunch to keep their wits about them, he’d apparently scared the sixth year claws something fierce.  As Harry approached the door to the classroom, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  Glancing around, he saw nothing to alert him to any danger but grabbed Hermione’s elbow and slowed her down, stopping outside the doorway.

“Do you feel that?” He asked quietly, looking about.

Hermione paused, taking in their surroundings.  She looked at the doorway and felt her hairs rise too.  “Now I do,” she confirmed, “the doorway.”

“Let’s give it a minute.” Harry said, pulling her over to an alcove across the hall. 

They stayed there for a minute, waiting and studying.  They’d realized there were multiple spells active on the doorway.  One was the standard attendance charm.  They were pretty sure another was a glamour of some kind.  There was also an odd smell they could both not identify.

Shortly before the bell, they spotted Malfoy approaching with his guerrillas.  They slid deeper into the alcove to watch, but they were still seen.

“Trying to be late for class?” Malfoy sneered, “What’s the matter, Granger, can’t find a litter box?”

They laughing trio turned into the classroom, and disappeared.  Harry’s magic sense told him two spells had fired just the other side of the glamour.  As no noise came out as the spells triggered, he figured one was a silencing spell.  He turned to tell Hermione and saw Ron hurrying from the other direction.

“Ron,” He called, “You might want to wait.”

“And be late, not bloody…” Ron’s response was cut off as he moved through the Glamour.  Harry felt the two spells fire off again, and then nothing.

“It seems this is a test,” Hermione commented idly, her look that of one in deep thought.

“Indeed it is Miss Granger,” Moody’s voice came from beyond the glamour, which fell as he spoke to reveal him standing ten feet beyond the doorway.  “You may enter now.”

“Wait,” Said Harry, holding Hermione’s arm.  “It’s not over.”

“What do you…” Hermione trailed off, and looked at the arch of the doorway again.  “ _Deprehendere”_ She cast at the arch, and was rewarded with a trio of glows still circling it.

“We’ll enter after you remove the spells that trapped everyone else.” Harry told the grinning Professor.

“Do it yourself.” he challenged back.

“Hmmf,” Hermione grinned, “Harry, shield us, please; it wouldn’t surprise me if he booby-trapped the spells.  I’ll start on the removal.”

“Got you,” Harry replied, and instead of raising a shield spell, he transfigured a short wall in front of them.  Seeing Hermione’s questioning look, he merely said “Some spells can’t be stopped by _Protego_.”

“Good point, though I’d hope he didn’t use any of those, as this is a school, and those tend to be rather nasty curses.” Hermione turned back to the archway, “ _Finite._ ”

The glowing spells in the archway twitched, and two of them vanished with a sharp CRACK.  With that crack, two things happened.  The silenced students who’d been floating above the doorway came crashing down in a heap.  The other was the release of a barrage of red spells straight back at the duo.  Ducking behind their wall and a quick _Protego_ to protect them from any breakthroughs and they were fine.

“Very good you two.  Five points each.” Moody called, looking down at the rest of the class.  “As for you lot, let this be a lesson to you, always be on your guard.”

A chorus of groans and ‘Yes, sir’s’ answered him.  They ambled to their seats, Harry carefully angling Hermione to a corner desk near a wall.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Moody grinned at the Slytherin, “If you would please, demonstrate your awareness of past events and repeat to us Professor Dumbledore’s warning about malicious verbal attacks to Miss Granger.”

“Sir?” The blonde was looking decidedly green in the face.

“The punishment demonstrated by Professor Dumbledore at the feast last night.  You do remember it don’t you?”

“Yes, sir”

“Well, what was it?”

“40 points sir.”

“Not that one, the one he couldn’t give because you had not been informed of the rule.” Moody Snapped, “The one about referring to her as a creature.”

“It was 150 points, sir,” Malfoy sighed.  He’d managed to keep anyone in Slytherin from discovering it was him who’d been caught calling Granger a mudblood and cost them 40 points.  This he wouldn’t be able to hide.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, I won’t be taking those points today,” Moody said softly, Malfoy missed the Auror’s grin as he started to liven up.  “Instead, you’ll receive a more memorable punishment.  Report to this classroom every night after the last class.  You’ll clean in here, and wherever else I tell you to, until dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy answered before smiling to his goons and continuing softly, “One measly detention?  This professor has his head on straight.”

“And you apparently do not, Mr. Malfoy.” Moody called from the other side of the room, “I said EVERY night.  That is every night until you go home for Christmas.”

The look on Malfoy’s face after that revelation actually had both Harry and Hermione smiling.

As Moody moved about the classroom, lecturing on the need to have ‘Constant Vigilance’ Harry noted the odd smell he had noticed earlier seemed to emanate from the professor.  He tried to identify it, but it wasn’t quite like anything he’d smelled before, even in potions.  Later, after discussing it with Hermione, who’d also noticed the smell and found it offensive, they decided he must have some potion regimen from his previous injuries that affected his odor.  Hermione did note that he made her feel uneasy, like there was something wrong, but since they couldn’t say what exactly triggered it, they simply decided to keep an eye open and see if they could find out why.

 


	10. The Essence of Magic

The Essence of magic

 

The news of Malfoys punishment was everywhere by the next morning.  The scene Snape made arguing it in front of the whole school at breakfast saw to that.  Dumbledore pointing out that it was far kinder than the likely result of what his housemates would likely do to him had he lost the points was not untrue.  The whispered conversation behind palms the other three heads of house had was lost on most however.

This much celebrated punishment did have one side effect however.  Other than Harry, everyone stayed away from Hermione for fear of punishment.  Ron was still being a prat and blamed Hermione for not stopping him from entering Moody’s classroom on the first day.  By the end of the weekend, they were pariahs. There was some interaction in class, but as soon as they were outside the classroom, everyone stayed away.  Harry was avoided by association, and while a bit lonely at times, both enjoyed the respite.

“Harry,” Hermione asked one afternoon, “I have a question for you.”

They had gone outside to read.  It was a Saturday halfway through the first month of classes and they’d needed to escape.  Each had chosen a book, and they’d set up camp under a tree by the Black lake.

“What’s that?” He responded, looking down to where she was using his legs as a pillow while reading.

“Well, it’s been a while since we last talked, and I was wondering,” She paused, biting her lower lip for a second before continuing.  “What are we?”

Harry sighed and marked his place in the charms book he was studying, before setting it aside.  He looked back down and saw her still chewing her bottom lip.  Her deep brown eyes stared back at him pleadingly.

“I’m not sure Hermione,” He started, “Definitely best friends, that was never in doubt, as for the possibility of more...I’m getting closer to figuring out myself, but there’s still a lot to think about.”

“And you still need time?” She asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“I think we both do.” He continued, “It’s not that I don’t want you in my life.  Far from it, there will always be a place for you, but there’s more to it.  The friendship we have is so vital to me; what if I screw up a relationship with you and it hurts that.  Worse yet, what if I hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me Harry, I know that.” Hermione reassured him.

“Not intentionally,” Harry closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, “But I have the most unusual luck.  And you already have been hurt by me.  It wasn’t intentional, but I did.”

“Harry…” she sighed, then sat up and moved to sit beside him.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want more.” He reassured her, “That kiss has been on my mind a lot, as has the desire for more.” She blushed at that reminder, for she’d thought a lot about it too.  “But there’s also the fact that I know that our… condition is making me very short tempered.  All my emotions are closer to the surface, in fact.  And my magic is flaring, just look at what I did to Ron, or Malfoy, on the train.”

“You defended me.”

“I attacked them.”

“You protected me from someone who was being cruel.”

“Even if I did, how would I react if we were closer?” He asked softly, his voice tinged with regret, “Would I have done more?  Hit them harder?  Seriously injured them?”

“I… I hadn’t thought about that.” Hermione answered honestly.  “All I know is I felt safe and protected when you did, and I needed that feeling at that moment or… or I might have broken.”

“And I never want you to,” Harry assured her, pulling her to his side, “But what am I if I do something to hurt someone else to protect you?”

They sat there quietly, both reflecting on the words they’d shared.  Hermione leaned into Harry’s embrace, laying her head on his shoulder.  Time passed slowly, each losing themselves in thought as they watched the day go by.  Neither noticed the oddly marked tabby cat in the limbs of the tree above them, nor the way it looked contemplatively at the pair sitting in the failing light.  As darkness fell, they soundlessly got up, Harry helping Hermione stand.  As she rose, she pulled him into a hug, her arms around his neck as she buried her face into his neck.  She pulled back after a moment and looked into his eyes before speaking.

“Harry,” She said softly, “I know you’ll always be there for me.  It may not be perfect, and there will be times that times are rough, but no matter what, I know we’ll always be friends.  Times and situations may change, but there will always be one constant in my life Harry Potter.  And that’s you.”  And she pulled him down to kiss him once more.

As they separated, a distant and rather happy look upon Harry’s face, she spoke one last thought.   “I know you still need time, but I want you to know, I’m not going anywhere in the meantime.  I’m happy where we are, at least until you decide you want more.”

“Me too,” He whispered back, and they walked back towards the castle, and the reality of school.

 

____________________

 

Harry had tried for weeks to think of the perfect gift for Hermione’s Birthday, but he was coming up empty.  He’d tried asking Lupin for a good, accurate book on Lycanthropy, but apparently Hermione had already asked for it.  He’d tried asking her parents for ideas, but they sadly explained it was always difficult to shop for Hermione, at least without a catalogue of her personal library.  He hadn’t even tried asking Sirius, for while he adored his dogfather, Sirius was not exactly the most reliable person to ask for gift ideas.

Finally, about a week before her birthday, and why did her Birthday have to be on the bloody full moon, he finally thought of the perfect present.  It would be tight, but he could pull it off.  He sent a couple of letters off, and prayed.

The morning of her birthday, Harry made sure to get up early, hoping to catch Hermione before she went to breakfast.  Throwing his school stuff into his bag, and grabbing the gift that had made it just the night before, he made his way down the common room.  He spotted his Bushy haired best friend just about to leave through the portrait hole as he got to the bottom of the stairs.  

“Hermione, wait a second.”

“Morning Harry.” Hermione greeted him as he hugged her and they began the walk to the Great Hall.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you Harry.”

“Look, Hermione.” Harry paused, placing his hand on the arm to stop her as well.  “I know I haven't given you an answer yet, and I am working on it, but I wanted to get you something really special.”

“You didn’t have to do that Harry,” Hermione started to assure him.

“Yes, I did,” He cut her off, “This summer, the time with you and your family, was the best time I've ever had.  It showed me what it is to be a family.” He paused, gathering himself, and handed her the small wrapped package.

Hermione’s hands trembled as she took it.  It wasn’t big enough to be a book, in fact it was about the size of a jewelry case.  With just a touch of hesitation, Hermione unwrapped the gift.  It was indeed a small velvet case, like you’d get a necklace or a bracelet in.  Her hands shook as she opened it.

Hermione gasped, her ears standing straight up out of her hair, as she saw the exquisite bracelet inside.  Two hands clasped together in friendship joined the golden band together.  The band itself was etched with repeating infinity symbols, each iteration spaced by either a ruby, or a sapphire chip.  And under each infinity symbol was their names, Harry and Hermione.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as Harry reached in and removed the bracelet, and placed it on her arm.  And as he did, he softly spoke to her, his voice quavering.  

“There are some special things about this Bracelet, but for now, just know that whatever happens, I'm always there for you.”

 

———————————-

 

“Miss Granger, please stay a moment.  Mr. Potter, you as well.”

Hermione looked up at Professor McGonagall.  They’d just finished Transfiguration, their last class of Hermione’s birthday and the request was not unexpected.  Tonight was the full moon after all.

“Yes Professor.” Harry replied for both of them, setting his book bag back on his seat.

Once the last student had departed, and the door was shut, Professor McGonagall’s stern expression softened slightly.

“How are you two adjusting?  Any issues?” She asked, indicating for them to follow her into her office.

“We’re ok, I guess,” Hermione told her, “It was nice at first that everyone left me alone, but I expected some at least to come back after the initial reaction calmed down.”  She blushed as she looked sideways at Harry, “If it wasn’t for Harry, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“There are a few coming around,” Harry said, “Neville is getting better; he talks with us at meals.  And the twins are still on our side.  Ron is still being a prat and I have no idea what is going on with Ginny, it’s actually kinda creepy.”

“I think it’s just a crush Harry,” Hermione offered in explanation, “If you’re not interested, ignore it long enough and she should come around.”

“I see,” McGonagall said softly, “I wish I could say this was unexpected, but it’s not.  It will, unfortunately, take time for things to settle.”

“We know professor,” Harry again replied for both, “It’s just hard.”

“Well,” The Scotswoman said in a moving on tone, “Tonight, you will both be helping me with a special project.”

“Tonight?” Harry asked, “But it’s…”

“Yes, that is why tonight.” McGonagall confirmed, “In addition to the obvious reason to get you away from prying eyes, there actually is a project I'd like you to consider assisting me with.  Or rather, allowing me to assist you with.”

“A project?” Hermione brightened a bit.  Harry smiled at that; _Leave it to Hermione to brighten up at the prospect of more work,_ he thought.

“Yes,” the professor confirmed.  “I’d like to help you begin Animagus training.”

The pair were quiet.  They’d informed the deputy headmistress that while they’d like to start training in the future, that they wanted to settle into school again before beginning the training.

“Why?” Asked Harry.

“Several reasons.” She began, “The first is as I informed you; no one we’ve found has tried to counter the transformation lycanthropy forces on its victim with an animagus transformation.  Mr. Lupin is starting to study, but there are other reasons as well.  One is that the first part is mental.  You find your center, look within yourself.  I believe this will benefit you both during the moon and outside of it.  It would even help in the study of occlumency in the future if you pursue that craft.”

“Occlumency?” Harry asked, never having heard of this magic.

“Magical mind defense,” Hermione explained, “It defends against mental attacks and Legilimency, mind reading magic.”

“Very good Miss Granger.” McGonagall confirmed.  “I’ve heard that you both are more emotional, particularly closer to the full moon?”

“You have?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, it was necessary to include Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout partially in our, that is Poppy’s and my own, monitoring of your situation.”  She held up her hand to forestall comment, “They don’t know more than we informed the students, but I believe if you were so inclined to include them in the future, they would respond favorably.  They are merely keeping an extra eye out for you two, and both have commented on… moodiness, the last few days.”

Hermione looked at Harry, who had his head lowered guiltily.

“It’s true Harry, we’ve both been more emotional lately.” She reassured her friend. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Mr. Potter,” McGonagall confirmed, “But the animagus meditation will help recognise and minimize the excesses of emotion that are leading to outbursts, shall we say.”

“I see,” Harry said sadly, “Why else do you think now is the time to start?”

“Well, if we establish an ongoing ‘project’,” she continued, “Any additional time or changes can be accounted for.  If we met once a week, then as long as it wasn’t a set schedule, we could use it to excuse you should any side effects or incidents happen.”  She looked over her spectacles at the teens, “That is not an excuse to let ANY school work lapse, however.”

Both teens shook their heads in fear at the last.  Professor McGonagall may have a soft spot for them, something that’s possible existence they still debated between themselves, but no one wanted to cross her.

“Additionally,” the professor began again, “The research you’ll be required to do will expose you to alternative methods of thinking and performing magic.  That is not to say one is right and the others are wrong.  I’ve heard that there are multi-animagus practitioners in the South American Tribes as well as some eastern cultures.  I’m not well versed in the particulars of how, but it opens possibilities.  There is also the internalization of your magic that can be helpful in many situations.  It is possible to cast upon yourself using just your own magic, no wands or incantations.  It’s very advanced, but the techniques used in animagus magic is a basis for those abilities as well.”

“You mean it’s like wandless and silent casting?” Hermione asked, obviously intrigued.

“It’s not quite wandless or silent casting,” McGonagall denied, “But it does have similar applications.  It’s like accidental magic in a way, only directed.  For example, let’s say as a child you had an incident where you shattered everything glass in a room.  What spell was that?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, then paused.  Harry looked curious, thinking hard, before turning to Hermione.  She looked at Harry and they could see what the other was thinking, for they were thinking the same.  There is no single spell to do that.

“There isn’t one,” Hermione said slowly, “Not a single spell.  At least not that I know of.”

“Exactly.” Professor McGonagall confirmed, “This magic is even more based on Intent than wand magic.  Thinking a phrase or a particular wand movement merely focuses the user’s magic, helps the intent.”

“So basically,” Hermione spoke in awe, “Spells are a focus, like a wand, to enable the wizard to focus his intent to the point that his magic responds to it and makes it happen?”

“Yes, exactly.” Minerva confirmed.

“And since Animagi focus inwards to effect the transformation, it enables them to use that experience to perform spells on themselves more easily?”

“Precisely.”

“Wicked.” Harry breathed, catching up to the implications.

 

————

 

That night, they met Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary, where they were led to separate quarters.  The plan was for them to stay the night, voluntarily locked in the quarters, and monitored for differences in how they were dealing with the full moon.

Madam Pomfrey led Harry into the quarters that would be his for the night.  They were modest, a small sitting room/office space, private bathroom and a bedroom.  She informed him they were old staff quarters, and they hadn’t been used in a long time but would do for the night.  After taking her initial checks, the matron bid him a good night, telling him she’d check on him several times throughout the night and to activate the page rune on the bedside table if there was an emergency.

Harry spent the next hour doing his homework, smiling as he remembered Hermione reminding him to get it done.  _Always looking out for him,_ he thought.  He took a shower and got ready for bed, even though he wasn’t particularly tired at that point.  As he lay in the oversized bed, he let his mind drift to Hermione and their situation, idly scratching an itch on his arm.

Their kiss, kisses now, lingered on his mind.  Every time he closed his eyes lately he saw her, felt her kiss on his lips.  He wanted more, he thought, but can I?  They really did only have themselves these days.  Most people had at least gotten to the point of being civil, or saying hello, but they really were alone.  And if it were anyone else, he’d probably hexed the hell out of someone out of frustration, but not with her.  

The other side of the equation though, was the undeniable fact that Voldemort was still out there.  And the dark tosser wanted him something fierce.  He had no idea why, maybe revenge for the night his parents died?  Either way, he was number one on that hit list.  Could he put her in that position?  For if they did go beyond friendship, she’d be number two.  Not that she may not get there on her own eventually as she would, after all, put her knowledge to work fighting him.  But to be put in danger just because they had feelings for each other?  Could he live with himself if something happened to her or her family because they were more than friends?

Harry tossed and turned for the next several hours, trying to ignore the pain and irritation dancing through him.  He’d been laying down for half an hour, when the pain had started.  His skin felt tight, and his insides burned.  He knew it must be moonrise, for the moment it must have risen, his pain and irritation had magnified tenfold that moment.  He couldn’t sleep either, not from the pain, for he’d slept in pain plenty of times before at the Dursleys, No, he couldn’t sleep because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hermione in pain.

He gave it another hour, tossing and turning, trying his damnedest not to scratch his itching skin.  Madam Pomfrey had offered and gotten him a potion to relieve it, though it had had no effect.

Harry tried to breath deep and focus himself, focusing for the first time on the image of Hermione when he closed his eyes.  He tried to project himself to her, to help her.  It seemed to help a little bit, but it was frustrating that he knew she was as uncomfortable as he was, that he knew there was something he could do to help, and wasn’t allowed to.  His insides ached and flipped at that thought.

He felt a bit of calm return, like Hermione had placed a hand on his shoulder to focus him.  He felt it, though he couldn’t explain it, and the ache deepened.  He felt trapped, desperate, confused.  He wanted… no, he needed to do something.  He knew it was the primal side of his affliction raising its head, the urge to protect his friend.  It burned and flamed within him, flaring every time he felt her pain increase.  

As he stretched to her, tried to project comfort and support to her, his senses flared.  It was almost as if he was in the room with her when she screamed in pain, still fighting the transformation.  And something snapped inside.

He was running down the corridor before he realized he’d moved, cool floor chilling his bare feet.  He rounded the corner and dodged around a startled Professor McGonagall.  He heard her cry out as he bounced off a wall on his way past but didn’t slow.  Turning another corner, he saw the door he instinctively knew was his goal.

Madam Pomfrey shrieked in fright as the door behind her blew apart.  Some reflex action had her moving between the doorway and Hermione, the same time as said witch dodged around her on her way to the door.

Harry and Hermione met with bone crushing force as he entered the room, though neither noticed.   They embraced with such force, such desperation, that you’d be hard pressed to fit a hair between them.  Tears streamed down their faces as they held each other, each felt the pain reduce with each passing moment.

“Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?” Madam Pomfrey demanded shrilly.

“I… the pain...couldn’t stand… hurting…” Harry struggled to explain, gasps and sighs breaking up his explanation.

“I understand that,” Pomfrey puffed, “But how did you get here?”

“And did you realize what you were doing?” Professor McGonagall asked as she entered the ruined doorway.

“Not sure ma’am,” Harry gathered himself, still not looking up from hugging Hermione.  “I just got to the point where I knew how much pain Hermione was in, I could feel it.”

“You felt her pain?” Pomfrey inquired, “Or your own?”

“I felt my pain, and hers.” Harry explained, “I felt on fire, but if I closed my eyes, I could feel Hermione’s too.  If I focused, I felt like I could project reassurance to her.  Mentally comforting her, I guess.”  Harry paused at the incredulous looks on the faces of the adults.  “I know, but I can’t explain it better.” He sighed, “Whatever I was doing, I knew it wasn’t enough.  So I came to her.”

“And just how did you know where she was, Mr. Potter?” Mcgonagall asked pointedly.

“I don’t know, I just did.” Harry finally looked up, “I don’t even know where I am or how I got out of my room.”

“You got out by blowing the door to pieces,” McGonagall explained, “How you did that without a wand is interesting.  What is more interesting is the giant crater in the wall you bounded off of on the way here.”

“I… what?” Harry stuttered.

“It would appear Mr. Potter that you managed to blow apart the door to your room, and this one.” The Scotswoman explained, “Plus you left a large crater in a wall you hit, yet appear to suffer no physical effects from any of it.”

“Minerva,” Pomfrey interrupted, “The wild magic rolling off Mr. Potter as he entered might explain it.  It started settling as soon as he and Miss Granger embraced each other.”

“And your point is?”

“At this point, I think any effort to separate them during the full moon will be counterproductive and ultimately futile, as tonight demonstrated.”

“I see,” The majestic Scotswoman looked down at the pair still hugging each other on the floor.  “You may have a point there.”

 


	11. Magical Mayhem

Magical Mayhem

 

The following weeks passed quickly, with no real change in the student’s attitude towards the pair.  They were still avoided, with very few actually talking to them.  Neville and the twins seemed friendly enough, if a bit cautious.  Ron only seemed to speak to them if he needed help with homework.  He even asked for help with a couple assignments after they were due.  Ginny would talk to Harry, but seemed to deny Hermione existed, which tended to cause Harry to cut any conversation short.  

At the beginning of October, Moody taught them about the Unforgivable curses, going so far as to demonstrate them.  Both Harry and Neville were almost sick after that class. Neville appeared to have a very bad reaction to seeing the torture curse, while Harry just felt dirty from the feel of the spells.  His Feel for magic had gotten better, and those spells just felt wrong, like some perverted disgusting abomination.  How a teacher could do that in front of students Hermione couldn’t understand.  At least Moody had taken Neville aside after and even given him a rare Herbology book, which Hermione had instantly asked to borrow of course.

They had a few animagus study sessions with Professor McGonagall as well, which were extremely informative.  They’d done a bit of study and found that, of the two common methods of becoming an animagus, one actually allowed for a bit more flexibility than the other.  The ‘shortcut’ as they referred to it, a potion that took five months to prepare, essentially locked in your transformation.  Every reference to Multi-form animagi noted that using the potion method made this option unavailable.  So they decided the hard way would be the best, despite a time frame anywhere from a few months to five or more years.  Hermione said it best when she said that ‘anything worth doing, is worth doing right’.

The pair also had a very hard and long discussion about their future.  It happened on one of the last warm days as they again studied on the grounds.

“Hermione,” Harry hesitated, drawing up all his courage.  “As much as I may want to explore being more than friends with you, I’m not sure we should.”

“Why?” Hermione asked softly after a pause, hurt tingeing her voice.

“Voldemort is still out there,” Harry began, “And so are a lot of his followers, like Malfoy.  If we were together, they’d go after you just to get to me.  If we aren’t, they may still hunt you, but I don’t think they’ll do it as aggressively.” He held up his hand, to forestall her interruption, “It’s not just you, Hermione.  It’s your family too.  If we got together, they’d be in danger too, and how could I put people who’ve shown me nothing but kindness in that kind of danger?  They have no defense against magic.”

Hermione was quiet for a long while.  She knew he cared, that he was thinking of her and her family, but lord, he was dense sometimes.  And so self-sacrificing she wanted to scream.  

“Harry,” She began, choosing her words carefully, “you have to know that I'm going to be by your side, regardless of if we’re a couple or not.  I will be target number two or three, even if we aren’t together.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded, “But it will be a lot larger target if we are.”

“I doubt that,” Hermione contradicted him, “Especially after all the times we’ve squared off with Draco.  Even if it is a little bigger, I’d still be targeted.”

“I think…”

“No, you’re not thinking,” She cut him off, “You’re being your usual self-sacrificing self.  And while I love that about you, it also drives me up a wall when you give up what you want for others.”

“I’m not giving anything up.”

“Oh yeah,” Hermione glared at him now, “So you aren’t giving up your happiness, OUR happiness.”

“I’m putting your life and happiness first.” Harry said sullenly.

“MY happiness?” Hermione grinned slightly, “And what if what makes me happy is you?  What if I don’t want my life without you in it?  In a role closer than best friend?”

“I…” Harry hesitated, trying to think, to explain what he meant.  “Hermione, I don’t know if I can do it.  If something happens to you, or your family, because of me, I don’t know if I could take it.”

“I KNOW I can’t get through this without you.” Hermione pressed, “Before I thought I had feelings for you, but since you have stood by me despite everything, I’ve come to know it.  I think about the future Harry, and you are in every thought.  I think about graduating, and it’s you I hug first.  I dream of my wedding, and it’s your face waiting for me.”

“I...really?”

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione sighed, and pulled him closer, “I want you to ignore everything else, no thoughts of the danger, no thoughts of what people will think, just tell me this:  Do you want to be more than friends with me.”

“It’s not that easy, Hermione,” 

“Yes, it is, Harry.  Just tell me, ignoring everything else, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“If nothing else was going on, then yes, I would be your boyfriend in a heartbeat.  But Hermione…”

“No, no buts.  This is just about what we want, which is to be happy together.” She leaned in and kissed him tenderly, “And we are going to be happy.  We’ll work out everything else together, together as a couple.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Harry asked with a grin, “You tell me to pull my head out of my arse and do as you say?”

“No, but we will discuss our issues and decide together,” Hermione grinned suddenly, “Then we’ll do it my way.”

“I see,” Harry smiled at his new girlfriend, “and if I do this?”

Hermione’s squeals as Harry tickled her echoed through the glen.

 

—————-

 

The next moon was bad.  They had planned to use wolfsbane at some point, to test its effects, and this was the moon.  They’d found silver didn’t affect them, though they were uneasy around Moony and Padfoot near the full moon.  That got chucked up to the whole cat vs Dog reaction.  They also found their senses were getting less affected by the moon, staying heightened even during the new moon.  This was both a blessing and a curse, they experienced so much more, but both Harry and Hermione complained vociferously about the lack of forethought teenage witches put into their perfume. 

After dinner, Professor McGonagall took them to another small set of quarters off the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey took some readings of them.  Two goblets of Wolfsbane potion later and the pain began.  Each of the teens felt their skin on fire, and the sensation of things crawling all over them.  The pain burned through them and sent their magic into upheaval.  Hermione screamed through her transformation, despite Harry holding her and trying to comfort her.  Magic rolled off of them in waves and bursts.  The walls cracked and the bed broke under the assault.  

“What’s wrong with us?” demanded Harry, his voice raw with barely restrained emotion.

“I’m not sure,” Pomfrey said in frustration.  “The magic you’re emitting is preventing my spells from taking any useful readings.”

“Could it be the potion?” Minerva asked, concern written all over her face.  “Could it have affected them adversely?”

“I don’t see how,” The matron said cautiously, “It’s designed to fight lycanthropy.”

“But we don’t have lycanthropy,” Hermione called from her huddle on the floor.  “It’s not lycanthropy anymore.”

“I suppose…” the matron said worriedly.

“Either way, the only thing that has changed is the potion,” McGonagall said decisively, “Can we purge it?”

“I don’t know, maybe” Pomfrey left the room in a rush, returning a few moments later with a pair of vials of a sickly green substance.  She turned to the teens, huddled as they were on the floor.  “These are purging potions.  They’ll cause you to expel everything you have in you, both in your stomach and further in the… digestive process.  Basically, if you take these, it’ll be a very unpleasant four to six hours as your body removes all food and drink from you as expeditiously as possible.”

“So basically we’re going to be throwing up for half the niiiiiiiiight?” Hermione asked, her voice breaking into a yowl as another explosion of pain passed through her.

“Yes, as well as being unable to get up from the toilet as it will cause both ends to expel.” the slightly embarrassed witch explained.  “It is a most uncomfortable situation.” She paused, “Plus, I don’t know if it will work.  Wolfsbane is absorbed rapidly to produce its effect.  I can’t say that this will relieve any of your pain.”

A whispered conversation later, the pair stood shakily and made their way over to the mediwitch, arms around each other as they helped each other walk.  Harry reached out to take the potions, before they turned towards the suite’s bathroom.

McGonagall followed, conjuring a pair of buckets that would automatically vanish the contents.  The pair paused at the layout of the bathroom, before Minerva spelled a second toilet into existence beside the first.

“Would you like more privacy?” the transfiguration mistress inquired, “I can conjure a divider for you…”

“No,” Hermione said quickly, “It’ll be a bit embarrassing, but I don’t want us to be separated.”  She turned to Harry and continued softly, “Not how I planned this, not how I wanted us to see each other…” She broke off, blushing.  

“Hermione,” Harry sighed, “It’s ok.  Not the way I wanted things either, but I’ll try not to peek, if you’ll do the same.” He gathered himself, “But you’re right, tonight we need each other more than we need a bit of dignity.  Plus, how am I supposed to hold your hair back for you if I’m not by your side?”

The small smile Hermione gave him at that remark gave Harry the little bit of hope he needed.  He kissed her forehead where it rested against his chin, handed her a vial, and together, they drank.

Madam Pomfrey turned out to be half right.  The potion didn’t eliminate the pain, but it did reduce it.  By the time the purging potion had run its course, their skin merely felt like it had a bad sunburn.  And thankfully they were allowed a mild pain potion now that she was confident the wolfsbane was no longer present to interact with.  Finally, at about two in the morning, the pair were able to sleep.

 

—————-

 

“Oi, where have you two been?” The redheaded menace of Gryffindor demanded Wednesday morning.

It was the second morning since the full moon, and the first time Harry or Hermione had been seen since Monday night at dinner.  They’d been confined to the Hospital wing Tuesday to recover under Madam Pomfrey’s care, getting checked for any changes from the previous night.  So far, nothing adverse was found, but she had said that their cores were still in flux, so it was possible they’d discover after effects days or weeks down the line.

“Had a small mishap with a project for Professor McGonagall,” Hermione explained, “It really wasn’t anything bad, but Madam Pomfrey had us under observation yesterday as a precaution.”

“What special project?” Ron demanded, “Can I get extra credit for it?”

“You, Mr. Weasley,” The venerable professor in question cut in behind him, “did not meet my exacting requirements.  These two have shown they can handle the extra responsibilities I’m asking them to assume.  They get no slack in their other classes nor in mine.  They will be required to make up any class work they missed yesterday and do any homework assigned.  As you are already behind in your normal work, why would I give you more?  Particularly work on a project as important to me as this one is?”

“But we always do everything together,” Ron protested, “If they get a chance at extra credit, so should I.”

“You think so, do you?  Even after you’ve abandoned them this term?” McGonagall demanded, then nodded.  “Very well, if you think you have the required skills, we shall test that theory.  Report to my office tonight at 7pm.  I shall test your skills and knowledge, and if, I repeat IF, you can demonstrate the abilities you claim to have, you may join this project.”

As the transfiguration mistress walked away, Harry swore he saw her grim expression crack for just a second.  His musing at this unprecedented event was cut short by Ron demanding to know what he’d be tested on.

“Come on guys, tell me what I’ll need to know.”  

“We can’t.” Hermione informed him.

“What?” Ron exclaimed, spraying his mouthful of food across the table.  “But you gotta help me, we’re a team.”

“Are we, Ron?” Harry asked cautiously, “You could have fooled me.”

“What’re you on about, mate?” Ron demanded, obviously offended.

“You have stood by as Hermione was ridiculed.” Harry said darkly, “You even joined in the comments, the verbal slights.  And you barely speak to us, unless you want help with the homework you apparently aren’t even finishing on time.”

“Come off it, mate,” Ron brushed the comment off, “It’s just Hermione. Besides, it’s funny.”

“You think so, Ron?” Hermione demanded harshly, “So, you thought it was funny when you were throwing up slugs second year and everyone laughed?  Or what if people started calling you a creature?  Or maybe just a squib? A mudblood, maybe?”

The hall had slowly fallen silent as more and more of the students looked on at the confrontation.  Even McGonagall stalled out in her return.  She’d started to return once she heard the confrontation start but paused as the pair stood by each other.  She’d realized they needed to do this, to stand without staff support.  That it was against their supposed friend was just that much more a statement.

“But I’m not, so they wouldn’t,” Ron dismissed her, “It’s not my fault you screwed up a simple potion and ended up looking like a freak.”

SLAP

Ron sat open mouthed, a bright red handprint glowing on his left cheek.  Silence filled the hall, broken only by the small sobs from Hermione.  Harry had his arm around the distressed witch, but his glare never left Ron Weasley.  The red head’s temper was short circuited by the shock of being hit, of being slapped.  As he turned his glare back to the pair, he missed the ice cold green eyes of Harry, as his attention focused to Hermione.

“You hit me!” the aggrieved teen complained.

“You’re lucky that is all she did,” Harry’s voice was colder than anyone had ever heard it before.  “You need to leave now.”

“But she hit me!” Ron continued to see himself as the injured party.

“And I’ll kill you, if you don’t leave,” Harry said in a way that left no doubt in anyone that he would.  Harry’s magic slipped its reigns, flaring and sparking around him.  The spectators finally started moving away as the twins moved towards their brother.

“Harry,” Ron whined, “There’s no need to get upset over this, it’s probably just her time of the month.”

“I. SAID. LEAVE” Each word was punctuated by a wave of magic rolling off the joined pair.  Those around the trio were physically slid back by the power of it, causing several people to pale as they realized what was happening.  The third and by far the most powerful pulse of power, saw Ron physically ejected from the bench and thrown against the far wall.  

As Ron picked himself up, it was obvious all he saw was red.  He took all of half a step before he was flanked by his twin brothers.  Fred and George each grabbed an arm, lifting him up and dragging him towards the entrance.  Ron was screaming bloody murder, detailing his intentions to beat both Harry and Hermione bloody, before tearing their heads off.  

“20 points each for removing a hostile element from this confrontation Mr.’s Weasley.” McGonagall called after the twins, “Please take him to my office, you know the way, and keep him there until I arrive.”

“100 points from Gryffindor for casting spells in the great hall and fighting with another student, Potter, Granger.” Snape’s glee was evident in his voice, then he sneered.  “Each.  And Weasley too”

“Denied” McGonagall rounded on the potions professor, “They are not the initiating party, nor did either of them actually cast. They merely defended themselves.  Your instant and aggressive attitude against members of Gryffindor house when your own house has done the same thing as you’ve accused these two without punishment, has called into question your neutrality.  ALL points awarded or deducted by you, to ANY student, shall be reviewed from now on.  This is my decree as Deputy Headmistress.”

“That’s outrageous!” Snape bellowed, “How I enforce discipline is my affair.  You have no call to question my methods.”

“I beg to differ,” McGonagall refuted, “As Deputy, discipline falls under my purview.  If I feel a professor is abusing or mishandling their position in this regard, it is my job to review the situation.”

“They broke the rules!” Snape was starting to spit as he yelled, “You can’t just deny punishing them to suit your petty need to win the house cup, Minerva.”

“And you can’t arbitrarily assign excessive point deductions and punishments out of spite.” The highlander returned.  “It ends now, Severus.”

“Headmaster,” Snape called turning to the old man as he approached the confrontation, “You aren’t going to let this stand are you?”

“Discipline is indeed under the Deputy Headmistress’s purview, Severus,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly, “I will, however, join her in this review.  After all, four eyes are always better than just two after all.”

 


	12. The Choosing of the Champions

The Choosing of the Champions

 

They didn’t see Ron for the rest of the day.  This was probably a good thing Hermione thought, because it took her that long to calm herself and Harry down.  In transfiguration, they were excused from the in-class work and told by McGonagall to go rest and recover from Monday night’s ‘mishap’.   Taking the opportunity, they sat silently in the back and tried to catch up on their missed schoolwork.

Both Ron and the twins were absent from lunch as well, causing some concern to the couple.  Herbology after lunch was a nightmare.  Neville helped the couple as best he could, but everyone knew they were distracted by the events at breakfast.  They also weren’t looking forward to the inevitable confrontation the next time they saw Ron.

That confrontation happened after dinner.

When Harry and Hermione arrived in the great hall, they saw the redheaded git flanked by this brothers at the Gryffindor table.  The twins nodded their direction, but stayed beside their brother, obviously on guard duty.  The pair sat as far as they could from the red haired boys, trying to avoid any incidents.

They ate quickly, and retreated to the Gryffindor common room to study.  They’d been there all of five minutes when chaos exploded.

“You no good, backstabbing, lying…”  Ron’s tirade was cut off as the twins tackled him.  The muffled insults kept coming before someone, no one ever admitted it was them, cast a _Silencing_ spell at the irate redhead.

Harry sighed and closed the charms book he’d been studying.  Turning to Hermione, he quirked his eyebrow in question.  Seeing her nod in resignation, agreeing reluctantly that they needed to get this over with, they both turned towards the crimson faced teen being restrained by the twins.

“Obviously you have an issue Ron,” Harry began coldly, “We’re going to remove the _silencing_ charm, then we’ll talk.  If you can’t remain civil, we silence you again and let the twins deal with you.  If you can, we’ll air this out, so nobody doesn’t know what the issue is.  OK?” 

The jerky nod told them his temper was still there, but he’d talk.  A quick wave of Fred’s wand along with a mumbled _Finite_ ended Ron’s silence.

“Now what is the problem Ron?”  Harry asked harshly, “It’s obvious that you have one with us, so what is it?”

“You abandoned me, we were friends and now you won’t even talk to me.” Ron spat.  “Suddenly this year you’re too good to be my friend, after all I’ve done for you.”

“We abandoned you?” Hermione asked incredulously, “Okay, let’s hear how your attacks on me are our fault?”

“What attacks?” Ron Scoffed, “I make a joke and you toss me out of the train compartment.  You let me go into Moody’s door trap.  You won’t talk to me at all.”

“Ron, for the week before the train you were told repeatedly to stop cracking jokes and making fun of Hermione’s situation.  You refused.” Harry began coldly, “You were warned repeatedly there was a limit to how much we’d allow you to mouth off, and that you were at that limit.  You ignored those warnings.  When the school ostracized Hermione, where were you?  Right beside them, against her.”

“As for Moody’s trapped doorway,” Hermione picked up, her ears flat in anger, “We did try to warn you, despite what you had done.  You ignored us.  How is that our fault?”

“Harry, mate,” Ron started placatingly, ignoring Hermione’s logic.  “Are you really going to throw away our friendship over some bird?  She’s gone mental, you need to get away before she drags you down too.  I mean, I could see maybe if she were prettier…”  Only Harry’s restraining hand prevented Hermione from giving Ron another slap.

“Ron,” Harry sighed, “we tried to give you a chance, we really did.  We had hoped you’d come around, see that we’re the same as we were before, only a bit more mature.  But you’ve failed.  You say that Hermione is the problem?  How can that be Ron, when it’s your attitude that is driving us apart?  You’re attacking a friend and you expect me to stand by and let that happen?  Did you ever know me?  I learned that lesson first year when I almost lost my best friend.”

“You never almost lost me.” Ron said confused.

“I wasn’t talking about you Ron, I was talking about Hermione,” Harry informed him sadly, “Or did you forget the troll incident.”

“Harry,” Ron tried another tack, “look at how everyone treats her, she’s dragging you down.  The school will turn on you too, if you don’t drop her and go back to being my friend.”

“Ron,” Hermione started, only to have Harry stop her with a squeeze of her hand.

“Ron, you’ve begged me to come back as your friend, but what about Hermione?  Is she not your friend too?  Is she not important to you too?  Or was it always about being the friend of ‘the-boy-who-lived’?”

“Mate,” Ron began, flushing, “I know you want to be my friend, you’ve done so much to help me.  You went into the chamber with me after my sister.  You helped me go after the stone first year.  We’re best friends.”

“No Ron, we’re not.” Harry said sadly, “You have gotten me into more trouble than you’ve helped with.  First year?  You almost died twice going after the stone, and were saved by Hermione both times.  Second year, you think I went into the chamber because I thought someone was in danger?  I’d have gone in after anyone, true, but I expected to find Ginny dead.  I wasn’t on a rescue mission, I was after revenge because the creature hurt Hermione.  Your sister wasn’t a friend, she’s actually kind of annoying with her delusional crush.” Harry looked over at the youngest Weasley, “Sorry Gin, but it’s true.  You couldn’t even speak to me till late last year, and this year you are like a lost puppy and ignoring the fact that I don’t want you as a girlfriend.”

“It’s ok Harry, I know you’ll realize we’re meant to be together, then you’ll see my love for what it really is.” Ginny blushed.

“Then last year, when I got my Firebolt,” Harry continued with a shudder, turning back to Ron, “You wanted me to fly it right away, so you could try it next.  Hermione was more concerned with my safety and took it to Professor McGonagall.  Yes, I wish she’d talked to me first, but she acted to protect me.  You acted to get what you wanted, a stupid broom ride.”

“She betrayed you,” Ron snapped, “She stole from you, and you let her.”

“No, she removed a potentially dangerous object and had it inspected to keep me safe.” Harry sighed, “I should have known this would happen first year.”

“First year?” Ron asked, nonplussed, “What do you mean?”

“The mirror,” Harry replied, and saw the confused looks on everyone's faces.  “First year we found the Mirror of Erised, which shows you your heart's deepest desire.  Ron’s reflection showed him as Head boy and Quidditch Captain, holding the House cup and the Quidditch cup.  Those are rather self-centered dreams, at least to me.  All about his happiness.  Yes, others would be happy because we’d won, but he had to be the reason we did.  He wanted the fame, the attention.”

“Harry?” Katie Bell asked quietly, “Will you tell us what you saw?”

“Me?” Harry looked embarrassed for a second.  “Can’t you guess?” He squeezed Hermione’s hand tightly, “I just saw my family.”

Hermione’s lip quivered as her eyes filled with unshed tears.  She turned into him and hugged him tightly, her tail curling around his waist as she held him to her.  He returned the embrace, and kissed the top of her head.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ron declared, “What matters is you choosing some plain girl over your best mate.”

The females in the room bristled at the redheads’ brisk dismissal.

“Ron,” Hermione said, “How can he be your best mate when all you do is bask in the radiance of his fame and chase any other friends away?”

“What?”

“Hermione’s right,” Harry agreed, “All you ever do is tag along and blame others for your shortcomings.  And now, you’re making yourself feel big by repeatedly attacking my girlfriend.  If you really were our friend you’d be happy and supportive, not cruel and accusatory.”

“Girlfriend?” Ron gasped, “You actually want to be with her?  She’s not even human, it’s like you’re dating a troll.”

The room fell silent as Ron’s accusation left his lips.  The twins shared a single glance, before leaving their brothers side to clear the line of fire.  They need not have bothered for the retaliation of Hermione Granger was not a spell.  It was a foot.  A foot that connected to the most sensitive part of the boys’ anatomy at a great speed and force.  Every boy in the room winced at the sound it made, and watched in instinctual sympathy pain as the boy was lifted off his feet by the force of the blow before he collapsed, stunned by the pain.

Harry pulled Hermione back as she geared up for another strike, trying to calm her before she killed the prat with her bare hands, or feet.  The twins, assured by Harry’s nod that they were safe to approach, each grabbed one of Ron’s legs, and left the common room for the Hospital wing dragging their brother none too gently behind them.

“Hermione?” A nervous Neville asked hesitantly, and cringed a little when she turned to him, but bravely continued.  “If I’ve ever done anything to piss you off, I’d like to apologize now.”

“No need, Neville,” Hermione sighed, “You could never be that big a git.” then she chuckled as Neville sagged in relief.

 

—————-

 

They didn’t see Ron for the rest of the weekend.  Rumor was he was still laid up in the Hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey was refusing to magically heal his injury, claiming to dull the pain would reduce the effect of the lesson.  The twins apologized again, this time merely for being related to the prat.  Ginny also offered her support, in her own odd way, awkwardly congratulating Harry on standing up to Ron, ignoring Hermione’s part completely.

Professor McGonagall called them into her office on Saturday to work on their ‘project’.  On hearing their side of the incident, her only reply was to tell Hermione, “Next time, use a severing charm.”

Ron had also sealed his fate with the rest of Gryffindor.  His treatment of the couple was bad enough, the way he’d attacked them was beyond the pale, even for the ones that had joined in the silent ostracization of the couple.  To attack anyone the way he had Hermione, was just not done.

The twins informed them that their parents were livid.  So much so that Mrs. Weasley had not resorted to a howler, but to a personal visit.  Apparently Ron’s version of the events was not matched by that reported by her other children and Professor McGonagall.  The screams heard Sunday were not a wayward dragon, but Molly Weasley with a full head of steam.  It was also rumored Ron now had a matching palm print on his other cheek.

The next week saw Ron avoiding the pair like the plague.  Not even classes, where he sat as far away as possible could make him say a word to them.  He just sat and glared.  Unfortunately for him, after years of ignoring the blond ponce of Slytherin, the couple was well adapted to ignoring someone who was trying to get to them.

The night the other schools arrived was the first words outside of class that anyone heard Ron speak.  The Beauxbatons carriage had been impressive in its size, as well as the Abraxan Horses that pulled it.  In comparison, Durmstrang’s Ship, while interesting, failed to wow like the flying coach did.  The students however, were very gossip worthy apparently.

The Beauxbatons delegation was impressive, especially their half-giantess Headmistress Madame Maxime.  The students were generally pleasant, with sky blue robes and several young ladies caused many a tongue to wag, including the prat’s.

“Oi, Potter,” he called from a safe distance.  “Bet you wish you weren’t tied down to Granger now, huh?  Those are some real women.”

“I’m very happy with my choice, thank you.” Harry replied honestly as he squeezed Hermione where his arm was around her shoulders.  Both missed the slightly miffed look that flashed across several visiting students' faces.  They also missed the murderous look across another redheads face at his declaration.

The Durmstrang students, on the other hand, made their presence known in force.  Their red, heavy, fur-trimmed cloaks stood out in the failing light.  A hard looking, dark haired man led them up to the castle.  He was their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff.  Hermione hissed under her breath as the man neared, moving out of Harry’s arm to put herself between the Durmstrang headmaster and Harry.

“What’s the matter?’ Harry asked, noting the person causing his girlfriend to get upset.

“Not sure,” Hermione admitted, “He makes me uneasy.  Like Snape and Moody do.  I can’t explain it.”

“Well, I trust your instincts,” Harry reassured her, as they joined the throng of students entering the great hall after their guests.  “We’ll just keep our eyes open, like we do with the others.”

They joined Neville and the twins at the Gryffindor Table, noting idly that the Durmstrang students had joined the Slytherins at their table, while the Beauxbatons students filled the Ravenclaw table.  Ginny had tried to join them, attempting to shove her way between Harry and Neville, but was sent on her way by the twins.  They watched as Dumbledore introduced the foreign students, and their Heads.  He then introduced Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch from the ministry.  The announcements they brought were welcome to the couple: No underage wizards could enter the tournament. 

Once Dumbledore settled the Hall down, he explained the Goblet of Fire, the ‘impartial’ selector of the champions.  The instant the method of selection was introduced, Harry’s gut dropped.  He instantly had a deep foreboding, like someone had walked on his grave.  Tomorrow was the October 31st, he realized.  

“Please, no,” he prayed quietly, but not quiet enough.

“What?’ Hermione asked, she’d sensed his sudden apprehension.  “What’s wrong?”

“Hermione, what kind of luck do I have?” Harry asked his girlfriend.

“Unusual would be the best way to describe it, I guess.” She whispered back, “Or strange.”

“And what’s tomorrow?”

“Halloween…” She paused, “No, you don’t think…”

“I hope not,” He admitted, “but can you really tell me, with everything that seems to happen to me on Halloween, that it wouldn’t fit the pattern?”

“We need to talk to McGonagall.” She declared, “As soon as the feast is over.”

 

_____________

 

“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, What can I do for you?” McGonagall asked as she answered her office door.

“We’re not sure Professor,” Hermione replied, “But Harry had a bad premonition, and we need advice.”

“I see,” Minerva paused, then opened the door further, “Why don’t you come in and explain what you mean.”

“Professor,” Harry started one they had settled into seats, “How would you describe my luck over the last few years?”

“I suppose unusual would be a good descriptor, Mr. Potter,” The transfiguration mistress answered after pondering for a moment, “Why?”

“Think about what has happened on Halloween each year I’ve been here,” Harry instructed her, “Then look at what is sent to occur tomorrow, and tell me that I shouldn’t be worried.”

“Mr. Potter, what are you…” Her voice trailed off as her brain finished thinking about his points.  There was the troll incident first year, the first attack second year, then last year was Sirius Black trying to get into Gryffindor Tower.  “I see, Mr. Potter.”

“We thought you might, but we’re not sure what to do about it.” Hermione continued, “We have no evidence, no idea how to stop it from happening.”

“I’m not sure either, Miss Granger,” McGonagall confessed, “I can obviously bring your concerns to the headmaster, but I’m not sure what else we can do.  If his name does come out of the Goblet, we can point out that Mr. Potter would be unable to enter his own name due to the age line, which should prove he couldn’t have entered his own name.”

“Not necessarily, Professor,” Harry denied quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I already thought of how someone could get around the age line, it’s obvious to any muggleborn, or in my case, muggle raised.” Harry explained.

“How?” McGonagall asked confused.

“Well, other than the obvious of asking an of age student to enter my name for me,” Harry started, as he pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag, “There’s this.”  He tore a section of the parchment away, balled it up, and tossed it into the trash bin about 4 or 5 meters away.

Professor McGonagall looked stunned, glancing back and forth between the waste bin and Harry.  Could it be that simple?  She’d seen the age line Dumbledore had erected; it was half that far away from the Goblet.  A much easier distance to toss a balled up parchment into it.

“So simple…” Minerva began, then gathered herself.  “I shall bring this to the Headmaster at once.  Please return to the Gryffindor common room; I shall inform you of his response there.”

“There’s something else,” Harry told his Head of House on the way to the door.

“What is that?”

“Professor McGonagall, will you enter Draco Malfoy into the goblet for me?”

“Absolutely not, how could you ask me to endanger…” the outraged McGonagall trailed off, realizing his point.  “Thank you, Mr. Potter, five points to Gryffindor for pointing out alternative approaches, and dangers.  I shall inform you of the Headmaster’s decision shortly.

“Thank you, Professor,” they chorused, but the feeling of dread left neither of them.

 

____________

 

In the end, it seemed Fate decided Harry just had to have a bad day on Halloween.  

 

Professor McGonagall had arrived and pulled the duo out of the Gryffindor common room half an hour later.  She’d informed them that Professor Dumbledore had congratulated them on their ingenuity, and promised to add to the protections, but refused to say how.  They had his assurance that Harry could not be entered, and that even if he was, the odds that the cup would select him as Hogwarts’ champion were very small.

The pair worried all day, despite the reassurance of the faculty.  They played off their unease as the effects of the day, the anniversary of his parents' deaths, and everyone seemed to buy it.  Now however, the dread was rising as they sat in the Great Hall, waiting for the Goblet to be ready to choose.

“I believe that we have about another minute before the Goblet is ready,” Dumbledore declared, “While we wait, I wish to remind you, should your name come out of the Goblet, you stand alone.  Your school’s instructors cannot help you.  You must face the obstacles and challenges with just your wits and your knowledge.  And you must face them all.  Now, I think it is time.”

The headmaster turned to the goblet, and as he spoke the last, the Goblets blue flame flickered and pulsed orange/red before spitting a piece of parchment out of the flames.  Dumbledore snatched it from the air as it floated down, opened it, and declared.

“The Champion for Durmstrang,” He paused, “Is Victor Krum!”

Cheers erupted from the Durmstrang students as the large Bulgarian stood, accepting the accolades of his peers.  He made his way down the hall, and entered the antechamber where the champions would receive the information about the first challenge.  As he left, the Goblet pulsed again, expelling another piece of parchment.

“The Champion from Beauxbatons,” Dumbledore announced, “is Fleur Delacour!”

The reaction from the Beauxbatons students was more sedate than the Durmstrangs, but no less real.  Hermione noted several faces flashed disgust before covering it with smiles.  She made a note to find out more about this Fleur, and possibly why she inspired such a reaction.  As the lithe blonde entered the antechamber, the Goblet flared again.

“The Champion from Hogwarts,” Another dramatic pause, “Is Cedric Diggory!”

Three-quarters of the house tables erupted in applause.  Hufflepuff was by far the loudest, as one of their own was selected to represent the school.  Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were genuinely happy for the well liked Puff, especially since he wasn’t a Slytherin.  The cheers lasted longer than the previous ones, but as they finally settled and Cedric joined the other Champions in the anteroom, Dumbledore began to speak again.

“Now that we have our Champions, I expect you all to…”  Dumbledore trailed off in his speech, for the Goblet had flared a fourth time, expelling another piece of parchment from its furnace.  Dumbledore once again snatched the floating paper from the air, unfolded it, and read it.  Harry’s gut froze as Dumbledore's shoulders slumped slightly, as if in resignation.

“No.” Hermione whispered, “Please no.”

“Harry Potter” Dumbledore called, and Harry swore if he ever met Fate, he’d kick them harder than Hermione had Ron.

 


	13. Contracts and Conditions

Contracts and conditions

 

Silence filled the hall as every eye turned to stare at Harry.  Hermione’s were the only ones that offered support, everyone else was a mixture of accusation and confusion.  Sighing heavily, he rose and started towards the headmaster, acknowledging Hermione’s hand squeeze with one of his own before he left.  He felt every eye on him as he approached the dais, but he only had eyes for the headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded sadly as Harry approached, admitting his failure despite the reassurances he’d offered.  McGonagall joined Harry in front of the staff table, laying a supporting hand on his shoulder and adding her look to Harry’s as she led him to the antechamber.  As the door closed to the chamber, the murmurs of speculation could be heard building, and Harry sighed.  It was just his luck.

“Do they want us back in ze great hall?” a melodious voice asked.  Looking up out of his funk, Harry say the Beauxbatons champion looking up at him.

“No,” Harry said softly, “My name came out too.”

The cries of disbelief and outrage filled the small room as Harry made his was off to the side with Minerva.

“This is outrageous!”

“He is just a boy!”

“Hogwarts cannot have two champions!”

When Dumbledore, Moody, Bagman, Crouch, and Snape entered a minute later, the accusations and disbelief raged.  It took a moment for order to be restored, at which point Dumbledore turned to Harry.

“Harry,” The aged wizard began, “I know the answers already, but for everyone else's benefit: Did you place your name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“No”

“Did you ask someone older to do it for you?”

“No”

“Do you have any desire to compete in any way?”

“Hell no”

“Of course he says this now,” Karkaroff railed, “Now that Hogwarts has two champions.”

“I’m not a Hogwarts Champion.” Harry denied, “That would be Cedric there.  My name coming out of the Goblet is probably an assassination attempt.”

The shock that statement rocked his accusers back on their heels.  He turned to the other champions and saw contemplation on Cedrics’ face, curiosity on Fleurs’, and a distant look on Victors.

“I’m sorry this happened.” He said to the champions, “But as I was told last night when I pointed out a rather glaring flaw in the protections around the cup, once entered, there is no getting out.”

“Vhat flaw?” Victor asked.

“Two actually.” Harry admitted, “The first was a method of entering a name into the Goblet from beyond Professor Dumbledore’s age line.  The second was pointing out that anyone who was of age could enter any name, not just their own, into the Goblet.  I was assured my worries were unfounded.” Harry glared at Dumbledore at the last.

“I’ll admit,” Dumbledore responded, “That both points were valid.  The first was addressed by repulsion charm around the flame, preventing anything thrown or levitated from entering the fire.  The second was, or should I say, should have been prevented by an intent ward.”

“What’s an intent ward?” Harry inquired.

“It’s a ward that reacts to one’s intent Harry.” McGonagall explained, “Usually used to expel those with hostile intent or intent to harm.  It’s a very advanced magic, and rather time consuming to cast as I recall.” She looked at her boss, “What was the trip?”

“It was keyed to prevent anyone for entering on the behest of another.” Dumbledore provided, “I placed the charm immediately after our conversation last night, then gathered the needed supplies and the intent ward was up by nine o’clock.”

“So either they got around your ward or entered before it was up.” Karkaroff sneered, “Or he was the one to enter his name.”

“That’s a load of codswallop,” Moody snarled, “The only way a fourth name could have come out of the Goblet is with an extremely powerful confundus charm, certainly beyond the work of a fourth year.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into it, perhaps you entered his name in the cup.” Accused Igor.

“I’m trained to think how dark wizards think, remember?” Moody retorted, stomping closer to the man.  “Or do you need a reminder?”

“ENOUGH” barked Dumbledore.  “What matters more now is that his name came out, not how it got here.  Crouch, is there any way to get Harry out of the tournament?”

“No,” The old wizard sighed.  “The Goblet constitutes a magically binding contract.  As of tonight, Mr. Potter is a triwizard champion.”

 

____________________________

 

Harry snuck out after being told that the first task would test his daring, so there’d be no information given about it before it arrived on the 25th of November.  He slunk his way back to the Gryffindor common room, trying to figure out why him.  He’d never had such odd luck before, but since entering the magical world, he seemed to attract trouble, be surrounded by danger, and have an uncanny knack for surviving where he should die.

He hadn’t made much headway when he arrived at the portrait of the fat lady.  He mumbled the password, entering the lion’s den so to speak.  As he pulled the portrait closed, he looked up and realized maybe it wasn’t a metaphor.  Every Gryffindor seemed packed into the common room and was looking at him.  He didn’t get much chance to see how they were looking at him as his view was obscured by a bushy-haired missile that latched on to him like her life depended on it.  Harry sighed knowing he wasn’t alone, and hugged his girlfriend back.

“I’m ok Hermione,” He whispered to her, “I’m right here.”

“I’m so scared Harry,” Hermione murmured into his neck, refusing to loosen her embrace.   In fact, her tail joined her arms in wrapping around him.

“So glory hound,” Ron's voice cut across the silent common room, “How’d you cheat your way into the Tournament?”

Somehow, the silent room became even quieter, even as everyone between the couple and Ron parted, clearing a path for the confrontation.  The twins looked like they were about to intervene to save their brother, then turned to each other before shaking their heads and backing away as well.

“So I cheated to get in now?” Harry asked, “Why would I try to enter a tournament I want nothing to do with?”

“Of course you claim you don’t want to be in the tournament,” Ron sneered, “Makes for more publicity doesn’t it?  More glory for you.  What? Wasn’t being the Boy-who-lived enough for you?”

“Ron,” Hermione said very quietly, feeling the hurt the last shot had done Harry, “You know he hates that name.”

“But he loves the fame doesn’t he,” Ron attacked, sensing he’d wounded them, “He’s famous, everyone loves him, and it’s all about Harry Bloody Potter.  He’s got everything, Money, fame, never has to worry about anything.”

“You really think so Ron?  Are you really that dense?” Hermione snapped, magic rolling off of her.  She continued as everyone took another step back.  “Yes, everyone knows him as the Boy-who-lived, but did you ever consider what that name means to him?  Yes, he lived, but his parents didn’t.  He’s famous because his parents _died_ Ron.  Everyone celebrates today as the end of the war, but to him, it’s the anniversary of his parents’ murder.  Do you think for one minute he wouldn’t trade all that fame, all his money, to have his parents back?”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Ron said confidently, “If he did that he’d have nothing, this way he gets everything.”

“Everything huh?” Hermione’s eyes were glowing now, her magic flaring and shielding Harry.  “Where’s his Family?  Where are they Ron?  What about his friends?  Who other than me can truly claim to be his friend?”

“We can,” The twins chimed in, then looked sheepish at Hermione’s cocked eyebrow.  “Well, we try at least, but no one can be as good a friend to him as you.”

“I am as well.” Neville declared, stepping up to Hermione’s side, joining the twins against Ron.  “I may not be the best at anything, but I try to be as good as I can be.”

“Thanks guys,” Harry joined Hermione, nodding to the twins and Neville in turn, “And if it was a choice between all the gold in my vaults, or their friendship; well, I’d have some really great friends.”

“Yeah, right.” Ron snorted in disbelief.

“You really don’t get it do you Ron?”  Harry asked, “Are you so blinded by jealousy that you never realized that while you wanted my fame and money, that all I ever wanted was a family?  Were you so greedy for what I had you never saw that you already had what I wanted most?”

“Don’t give me that drivel,” Ron snarled, “you have it so good, you couldn’t want for more.  Always showing off and all.  You want everything.  The fame.  The money.  Your Mudblood slag…”

Ron’s tirade was cut off as Harry’s magic flared so hard it was visible. Hermione gasped as her magic joined his and wrapped around each other, their eyes glowed green and brown as a corona of power engulfed them.  The magic flared and burst forth, slamming Ron into the wall four meters above the common room floor.  The impact stunned Ron, who shook his head dazedly before starting to scream as the stone wall around him seeped over him, immobilizing him inside the wall, just his face remained uncovered.

“Get me down from here you…” Ron tried to demand his release.

“Silence,” the pair spoke as one, and another wave of power from them and Ron was silenced.  He obviously had more to say as his mouth continued to move, but no sound came out.  Hermione took his hand, then moved to look straight into his eyes and the tension throughout his body eased.  Harry looked at her, saw the love and support in her eyes, then visibly took deep, calming breaths, and their aura subsided and faded.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Harry asked in a calmer voice after he had settled down, “I promise to try to remain calm and tell you what I can if you are respectful.”

It was quiet for a moment before Neville spoke up.

“Do you know how your name got in the Goblet?” his hesitant voice asked, “Or how it was made to come out?”

“Do I know?” Harry repeated, “No, I don’t.  We suspect however, that someone is trying to use the tournament to kill me.  If an ‘of age’ wizard or witch placed my name in under a fourth school, and then _Confounded_ the goblet into thinking there were four schools competing, my name would be automatically chosen as I would be the only entrant.  That’s the current theory.”

“Do you have to compete?” Katie Bell asked.

“They debated a bit but the verdict was yes, I’d have to compete.” Harry sighed.

“Harry,” Hermione ventured, “The rules state that no one from your school can help you.  If you were entered under a fourth school, does that mean we can help you?”

“That is a very good question Miss Granger,” Dumbledore’s voice came from the entrance to the common room.  Everyone turned to look and saw the Headmaster and their head of house standing just inside the portrait hole.  “Unfortunately because we really don’t know how Harry’s name was entered, I would say that _overt_ help would be ill advised at this time.  However, if Harry were to ask general hypothetical questions, purely out of curiosity, I don’t think any issue could be found.”

“Now that you have the necessary information,” McGonagall continued, “I expect each of you to consider it and base your support or opposition on fact, not supposition or rumor.  Now off to bed, all of you.”

“Harry, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore called after the teens, causing both Harry and Hermione to turn back, “Would you mind releasing Mr. Weasley?”

“Uh… I’m not sure how, sir.” Harry stammered and blushed, “We didn’t really do it on purpose. Everything just happened by instinct, I didn’t really think about what we were doing, just what we wanted done.”

“I see,” the headmaster pondered, “And I saw it was wandless, did you mean to not use your wand?”

“Didn’t think, sir, just did.”

“Incredible.  Minerva, would you work with these two on gaining more control of their wandless abilities as you progress on your ‘Project’, whatever it is?”

“Of course headmaster.”

“As for Mr. Weasley,” The headmaster returned to the original subject, “I suppose we will find a way to release him... eventually.” And the old wizard grinned through his long white beard.

 

____________________________________________

 

            It was the next morning before the castle released its hold on Ron.  Fortunately it was after Harry and Hermione had gone to breakfast.  The next few days were tense, but eventually they settled back into their habit of ignoring the others and going about their day.  It was harder for Harry, who still shared a room with him, but their other roommates made it clear to Ron they wouldn’t stop Harry from retaliating if he did something there.

            Potions a week later was interrupted by Colin Creevey retrieving him for the wand Weighing Ceremony. It was an unmitigated disaster for Harry.  First Snape seemed to use his removal to go off on the other Gryffindor’s.  Then that reprehensible Rita Skeeter person calling herself a reporter dragged him into a broom cupboard for an ‘interview’.  Harry supposed blasting her through the doorway was a bad thing to do, but when her quill started making stuff up, he’d started to get angry.  When she’d made a disparaging comment about Hermione, it just wouldn’t do.  It was satisfying to walk up to her and inform her if she wrote one word about him, outside of provable fact, he’d inform everyone he met about her and her deplorable tactics.  And if she wrote anything bad at all about Hermione, he’d simply kill her.

            “You can say anything you can prove about me,” he’d said, “But you don’t say anything bad about Hermione.”

            The looks on the other champions faces was pretty amusing though.  Apparently he was glowing again when he did this.

After the actual weighing, which seemed more for show than anything else, the other champions asked for a word.

“Harry,” Cedric called as he left the room.

Turning, Harry saw all three of the other champions moving to him.  His wand still in hand, he turned so it would be hard for them to surround him.

“We just want to talk Harry, see?” Cedric continued, making a show of putting his wand away.  Seeing the other two follow suit, he relented.

“Fine, what’s up?” He sighed.

“First, Ve are sorry,” Victor began, “Ve made assumptions the first night that vere not fair.”

“We are unsure when you snuck off,” Fleur continued, taking care to enunciate, “But by the time we had agreed to talk avay from ze headmasters, you were gone.”

“I took the opportunity when we met a few days ago to fill them in on your history,” Cedric Explained, “And why you think it’s an attempt to murder you.”

“And now?” Harry asked cautiously.  This was not the discussion he’d been expecting.

“Und now, ve help.” Victor said simply.

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked, clearly confused.

“Eet is zimple “Arry,” Fleur’s accent returned, “Since you are not from our schools, as each must have only one, we can help you.  And each ozer.”

“Wait, you’re saying that since we’re not from each other’s schools, we can help each other.  But if we were from the same we couldn’t?” 

“Exactly.” Victor confirmed.

“At this point, we three have agreed to pass on any information or clues we discover about the tasks.  Prep is individual, but we all agree if someone needs help, we will do what we can.”

“That’s for us,” Cedric explained, “For you, we shall endeavor to keep everyone off your back, which means our respective schools, minus the snakes who probably would require serious damage to stop harassing you.  Sorry.” Harry gave a slight nod of acknowledgement at the sentiment.  “Also, if you get stuck or need help learning a spell, if we know it we’ll help you.”

“I…” Harry stammered, shocked at the offer, “Thank you, but why?”

“Because we agree,” Fleur explained, “It eez likely zey are trying to keell you.  And we don’t want zhat.”

 

_______________________________________

 

It was the Friday before the first task, and the full moon.  Their last class was Care of Magical Creatures, and both Harry and Hermione were uneasy.  Something was different today.  Most of the creatures in the class till shied away from them, but that was near constant.  Only the more intelligent creatures seemed to like them, even going as far as being far easier for them to handle.  No, there was something new.

“Do you feel that?” Harry asked her as they returned to the castle.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what it is.” Hermione replied, “I’ve felt this kind of thing before, kind of an instinct level warning, but never this strong.”

“I know, it’s like Moody’s doorway, but a lot stronger, sharper.” Harry confirmed, “But I can tell it’s in the forest, and I think there’s more than one.”

“Me too.”

“McGonagall?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Hermione agreed, casting one last glance at the forest before entering the entry hall.

 

__________________________________________

 

            McGonagall listened to the vague yet vivid warning the two passed on as she led them to their quarters for the night.  They also described the feeling to Madam Pomfrey when she arrived.  A quick consultation had the Deputy Headmistress agreeing to have Hagrid check the forest the next day for anything out of the ordinary.  

            The Moon rose and for the first time, something new happened.  Harry and Hermione shared the pain of the transformation.

As Hermione began her change, Harry realized that he felt the changes too, like they were happening to him as well.  Sensing that it was easier for her now, he tried everything he could think of to pull all the pain he could onto himself, taking her pain any way he could.  Hermione of course realized what he was trying to do, but couldn’t blame him for she’d do the same if she could.

The second change was that Hermione progressed further in her transformation.  Whereas before she had human features with a lot of fur and a tail and ears, she now had more distinct feline features.  Her jaw reformed, elongating into a short muzzle of tawny fur.  Her nose morphed into the triangular nose of a cat.  Her eyes spaced further apart, but still forward facing.  Her ears were more prominent, and her tail smoother.  Her Fingers shortened, and small leathery pads appeared on her hands.  They were still human shaped, just stubby.  Her feet elongated, pads grew on her soles, and her pelvis shifted.  To stand upright she now had to bend her knees, which felt oddly natural to her.

“Oh my,” McGonagall gasped as the transformation finished.

After waving her wand over Hermione, whose attention seemed to be on something outside, Pomfrey reported that she seemed to be fine, no unseen complications.  Hermione nodded absently, then meowed loudly.

Everyone startled.  Harry was instantly by her side as Hermione’s dismay showed, to reassure her.  She looked deep into his eyes, and a guttural yet melodious speech came from the girl.

“Aooutsiiide,” She half purred, “My Sennsssesss Arrrrrre grrrrrreaterrrr.  I can feeeel the crrrreaturrres.”

“I can too,” Harry assured her, then turned to McGonagall, “We have an opportunity here.  If both of us can sense whatever was triggering our senses earlier, we can find it.”

“That is unwise Mr. Potter,” McGonagall stated, “Neither of you can defend…” She cut herself off as Hermione flexed her hands and 5cm long, scimitar-shaped claws extended from her fingertips.  “Or maybe you can.”

“We have an hour before curfew, I don’t think the creatures are that far,” Harry pleaded, “Let us go out for half an hour.  If we can’t find anything, we’ll come back.”

“And why exactly should I let you go alone into the Forbidden Forest, at night?” McGonagall asked archly.

“Well, if there is something out there,” Harry explained, “We’re the best ones to find it.  And it has to be tonight because our senses are amped, who knows how well we’d be able to sense whatever it is tomorrow.” He paused, looked at Hermione, then back at McGonagall.  “Besides, you could always come with us.”

 

__________________________________

 

It had taken another ten minutes to convince the venerable Scotswoman, but she finally agreed to at least look into their assertion that there was something dangerous in the Forest.  When Harry produced his Invisibility cloak to sneak himself and Hermione out of the castle, she just shook her head, muttering about many things being explained now.

As soon as they reached Hagrid's hut, both Harry and Hermione could sense whatever was twanging their instincts.  They both swerved to follow the lakeshore at a constant distance, making their way around the edge of the lake.  Within about five minutes they could see light intermittently through the trees, flaring and waning.  As they approached, the odd smell they’d been trying to identify got stronger, and everyone felt the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end.

Coming around a very old, very large tree, a camp-like setting came into view.  Four cages were present, each the size of a large house.  The site was ringed with torches, with men running to and fro, trying to contain the creatures held in the cages.  Each was different, but each had one thing in common; they were all dragons.  The large, predatory reptiles were obviously upset.  They railed against the cages, spat fire at anyone who came near, and generally displayed the most aggressive attitude possible.

“My word,” McGonagall gasped, placing her hand over her heart.  “Why on earth?”

“The tournament,” Harry responded dejectedly, angrily.  “The thrice cursed, never sufficiently damned, bloody Tournament.”

“Laaaangguage, Harrrrry.” Hermione scolded in her purring tone, “Buuttt yessss, the Tourrrrrnament.”

“You mean…” McGonagall stammered, “Those are the first task?  What on Earth could they need dragons for?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Harry, “And I wish I didn’t have to find out.”

“Sssoomeone’sss commming” Purred Hermione, pulling Harry back behind the tree.

“Professor,” A mild mannered voice called, “What are you doing out here?”

“Ah, Charlie Weasley,” McGonagall greeted the unseen man warmly, “I caught sight of the light and was investigating.  Why are you and such creatures here?”

“Well,” Charlie's voice sounded hesitant, “I really shouldn’t say, but the school contacted us back about 2 months ago.  Asked us to transport these beauties up here for the Tournament.  Though why they need nesting mothers is beyond me.”

“Two months ago?”  McGonagall sounded shocked, “They asked you to transport four dragons two months ago?”

“No, just three,” Charlie assured her, “The fourth was added just three weeks ago or so, the first of the month.”  A roar interrupted him, “Though the rush has definitely upset her, I pity whoever gets that Horntail.”

“I pity them all.” McGonagall muttered, only their sharpened hearing allowed Harry and Hermione to hear her.  “May I ask why they are all different?”

“Different species,” Charlie explained, “Had to be to get four nesting mothers.  We have a Chinese Fireball, a Swedish Short -snout, a Welsh Green, and of course, the Hungarian Horntail.”

“I really wish they weren’t here.” sighed McGonagall, “They have a lethal beauty to them, but I dearly wish they weren’t here.”

“I’m sure the champions will be alright.”  Reassured Charlie, “Do you know why they added a fourth though?  No one has had time to do much other than work since the last dragon was added.”

“You haven’t heard?” Inquired Minerva, “Harry Potter’s name came out of the Goblet after the other champions.  He’s being forced to compete as a fourth champion.”

“Harry Potter, Ron’s friend?” Charlie asked aghast, “But he’s a fourth year.”

“Not so friendly between them lately I’m afraid, but yes, that Harry Potter.” McGonagall confirmed.

“They’re not friends anymore?  What happened?”

“I’m afraid Ron has shown a rather poor side of himself.  Miss Granger, who is now Mr. Potter’s Girlfriend, had a bit of a relapse from her potions mishap a few years ago.  Ron couldn’t stop laughing and making fun of her, driving a wedge between them.  Then, when Harry’s name came out of the Goblet, I’m afraid the unease between them came to a head.  Ron ended up stuck in a wall for several hours before we were able to undo the effects holding him there.”

“He was attacked?”

“No, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall’s voice became stern, “He attacked them, and the other two defended themselves.  Not for the first time I may add.  In fact, they’ve been rather restrained in their dealings with your brother.”

“Restrained?  What do you mean?”

“Well, if your brother, or anyone mind you, had said to me what he said to Miss Granger, they likely wouldn’t be breathing when I was done with them.”

 


	14. The First Task

The First Task

 

Harry and Hermione entered the Champions’ tent the morning of the first task hand-in-hand.  Harry had, with Hermione’s help, modified his quidditch robes to be more form fitting yet still supply their light armor quality.  He saw that Cedric was similarly attired, while Fleur was in a light weight, form fitting, blue garment and Victor wore his Durmstrang uniform without the cloak.  The other three looked up as they entered but returned to their own contemplations once they saw who it was.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered to him, trying not to disturb the others.  “I’m scared.”

“I am too Hermione,” Harry admitted softly, then looked into her eyes as emotion etched his next words.  “But I have something to live for, someone who will bring me back just to kill me for dying on her, and I have no intention of letting her down.”

Hermione blushed nicely at his comment and folded herself into his waiting embrace.  They stayed there for several minutes, before a bright flash shocked them out of it.  Standing at the entrance was the Skeeter woman again, her acid green quill floating behind her, rapidly writing away.  

“This is for Champions only,” Victor told her loudly, then glancing at Hermione, “And Friends.  Vhy are you here?”

“To tell the story, you simple boy.  To tell my readers what goes through the Champions’ minds before the big event, how they prepare.” Rita said airily, waving off his objection.

“Mrs. Skeeter,” Harry growled, moving between her and Hermione, “Remember what I warned you of.”

“You think your little outburst matters?” Rita scoffed.

“I did notice you actually stuck to the facts in your report of the Wand Weighing.” Harry noted, “Now if you’d please leave, we would like to prepare.”

“Of course, of course,” Rita paled slightly at the reminder.  “But first, Miss Granger, care for an interview?”

“That actually sounds like a good idea,” Hermione said with a grin, “I wonder if that other paper sent a reporter, what’s its name?  The Quiver?  The Quiller?”

Harry barely restrained a laugh as Rita looked ready to explode with outrage at being ignored.  The other Champions gently guided the reporter from the tent, and when that didn’t work, they stopped being gentle.

A few moments after expelling Skeeter, the doorway opened, and the Headmasters and Headmistress, Bagman, and Crouch entered the tent.  They gathered the Champions, and Bagman held forth a smoking bag.  

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said before Crouch could start, “I understand and welcome your presence, however I must ask that anything you learn here, you keep to yourself until it is announced to the other spectators.  We also require you to exit before the first Champion and remain in the arena until the end.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said softly beside Harry, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

“Very good Dumbledore,” Crouch thanked the old wizard, “Now in this bag you will find a representation of the creature you shall face in the arena.  Don’t worry, you needn’t kill it, merely retrieve an object in its protection.  A Golden egg, your clue to the second task, lays in the middle of the arena.  You simply need to retrieve it and exit the arena again.  How you do so is up to you.”  Harry felt uneasy at the eager grin on the man's face as he held the bag to Fleur. “Now, ladies first.”

Fleur reached into the bag, flinching, then pulled out a small, 10 cm long, green dragon with a tag labeled “2”.

“The Welsh Green, very nice,” Crouch commented, then held the bag to Victor.

Victor pulled a similar sized, reddish dragon with the number “3” on it. 

“The Chinese Fireball, very good, very good.” Crouch held the bag over to Cedric.

Cedric put on a brave face as he slowly withdrew a dark brown dragon with the tag labeled “1”.

“The Swedish Short-Snout, good selection,” Crouch continued his commentary as he held the bag to Harry, “Which leaves…”

Sighing to himself, and praying Hermione didn’t crush his hand with the force of her grip on his other hand, Harry bravely pulled out the miniature Horntail with the tag “4”.

“The Hungarian Horntail.  Good luck, Champions.” Crouch stepped back, allowed Dumbledore to take his place before the Champions.

“Now each of you will face your task in the order presented.  Mr. Diggory, at the sound of the cannon you may proceed to the arena.” Dumbledore instructed them.  “At the sound of each successive cannon, you may enter in order.”  He turned to Hermione, “Miss Granger, would you care to join us on our way to the Stadium?”

Hermione looked at Harry, then Dumbledore and nodded.  Turning back to Harry, she pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss, then hugged him tight.

“You’d better come back to me Harry,” she demanded in his ear, her voice quavering.  “You survive and come back to me, you hear?”  And left with the judges.

 

_____________________

 

Victor had left a while ago, out to face his dragon, and Harry was feeling the pressure.  At first, he and the other Champions had been subjected to the oohs and ahhs of crowd and Bagman’s less than helpful announcing.  The remaining Champions had silently agreed and cast silencing charms on the walls of the tent.  Fleur had amazed both the boys by altering one of the charms to allow only the sound of the cannon through, allowing them to know when it was their time.

As each of the foreign Champions left, they wished Harry luck.  Harry was of two minds over that.  He wasn’t sure if they were pitying him, or thought he needed it after being forced into this three years undertrained.  Either way, Harry was fairly sure they were sincere.

He reviewed the plan he and Hermione had come up with.  Moody had attempted to convince him to use his broom, why in the world would he want to face a dragon, an Apex Predator, on a broom?  They instead decided on using a tactic that didn’t place him at perfect biting height.  A bit of input from Sirius, several late nights in the library, plus a book on dragons Charlie Weasley had passed on through McGonagall, and Harry felt he had a chance to survive.  

Dragons were much more than flying lizards, as most wizards assumed.  They were highly intelligent creatures with senses humans didn’t and a rather organized social structure.  Apparently you can actually negotiate with them, even speak to them, if they let you live long enough.  Their hides were extremely magic resistant, and could see most invisibility through the heat one’s body emitted.  The plan was to use that to their advantage.

While Harry couldn’t cast a full _disillusionment_ charm, he could use an _obscuring_ Charm.  Combine that with a LOT of Hermione’s Bluebell flames, and actual flames, to raise the ambient temperature and the dragon would have a hard time seeing him.  They’d thought about using a _Conjuntivitis_ curse, but figured that’d just piss the dragon off.

BOOOM

Harry turned to the sound of the cannon, his heart suddenly in his throat.  Rising slowly, trying to gather his wits, he slowly made for the entrance to the arena.  The plan was sound; now he just had to execute it.

As he entered the arena, he paused.  Before him was a large rocky area about a 150m around.  The ground was uneven and crumbling in places, making movement haphazard.  In the center, on a raised outcropping, was not one Golden egg, but a dozen more eggs besides.  _Nesting Mothers_.  Bloody hell, he had to steal an egg from a dragon’s bloody nest?  Where they trying to get him killed?  _Wait.  Where’s the…_

His mental process cut off as instinct caused him to jump forward, out of the way of the blast of fire the prowling Dragon sent his way.  Scrambling up, he moved quickly away and behind a large boulder.  Just as he got behind it, sparks licked around it as another burst of flame pursued him.

He hastily cast his obscuring charm, then began setting flames alight around him.  Quickly he was surrounded by a dozen flames, and he could feel the heat rising, but not enough for comfort.  He tried to peek around, only to duck back to barely miss getting hit by another inferno.  Thinking swiftly, he looked around, spotted another boulder.  Casting the strongest _Incendio_ he could in the opposite direction, be bolted for the other boulder.

The dragon was distracted momentarily by the pyre to one side but turned in time for his fire breath to catch Harry as he made it to the boulder.  A hasty _Protego Solarus_ prevented any fire from hitting him, but it was a near thing.  So distracted by the near miss from the dragons front, Harry missed the attack from the rear.  The dragon's tail swept from the opposite direction, demolishing the boulder.  The great stone slowed and turned the impact, sending Harry flying across the terrain.

A hasty _Arresto Momentum_ kept him from taking much damage from the impact, but is left side was coursing with pain from the tail impact.  Harry dove for cover as he heard his name screamed from the crowd.  Turning he saw Hermione flying over the wall of the Arena, crashing into the rubble piles and moving towards him at a run.  He saw the Dragon had spotted her as well.  Reacting without thinking, Harry rolled over, pointed at the dragon's head, and bellowed _Periculum Maxima!_

Dozens of red sparks shot from his wand, each flaring bright as it arced around the dragons heard.  It reared back, snapping at any that passed too close.  

Fortunately, it worked enough to allow Hermione to make it too him.  He heard noises from the crowd but couldn’t discern what was being said.  Even Bagman’s commentary was ignored as he pulled her close.

“What are you doing?” He demanded

“I couldn’t stand it, I had to help you.”

“You could die!”

“So could you, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Stupid impulsive…  Never mind, where is that…”

The world exploded.  Again.

While the pair had checked on each other, the dragon had struck again.  This time they were tossed together, Harry rolling in midair to land underneath Hermione.  The Harry grunted as they landed, taking the impact on himself.  Driving the breath out of him.

Hermione pulled herself off of Harry and turned to face the dragon.  It was looking down at them, as if considering them, then turned and swung its tail at them again.  Hermione didn’t think, didn’t cast, she just acted.  She threw herself between Harry and the approaching blow.

Several things happened at once.  The crowd gasped in fear.  Hermione closed her eyes, kissed Harry, and accepted that at least she and Harry would be together, even in death.  Harry, grabbing Hermione’s hand, tried to move Hermione aside to get between her and the strike.

As the first spike of her tail struck the couples joined arms, the world exploded in a golden burst of magic.  The barbed spike, severed from the tail it was attached to, still pierced their arms, sliding between each arms forearm bones, pinning them together.  The pair started to scream, but the pain was muted.  They could tell it hurt, but it wasn’t uncontrollable.  Harry looked at Hermione, standing before him, ready to take the death blow meant for him.  Hermione saw Harry, moving to protect her as he always did.  And the golden glow burst around them.

The Horntail, one of the most intelligent species of dragon, recoiled in shock as a blinding golden shield deflected most of her tail.  One spike had been severed, but mostly the strike was merely shunted aside, but that was secondary in her brain.  She stared at the golden nimbus surrounding the pair of humans before her.  An aura she knew, understood even, though never thought to see.

The Bell of Hogwarts, unheard in Generations, pealed unnoticed in the background.

The arena doors burst open and the Dragon Handlers charged in, ready to subdue the rampaging dragon, only to slow and stop in confusion.  The giant Dragon placed herself between them and their intended rescuees.  Then they watched in shock as the angriest, most temperamental Dame they had ever worked with, was docile.  Then stunned silence reigned as the Dragon slowly squared herself to the couple in the golden aura, and bowed.

 **$$Great Ones$$** The dragon addressed Harry and Hermione, shocking them that they could understand, **$$I apologize for attacking you, I did not know you and only saw a danger to my Nest. $$**

 **$$We understand$$** Hermione paused in shock as she responded in the same language, though she knew not what it was.  Shaking herself, she continued, **$$You were merely defending your young. $$**

 **$$It is we who should apologize. $$** Harry intoned again, noting in the back of his mind that everyone had fallen silent in the stands to watch, **$$You were taken from your home by others that merely saw an opportunity.  We wish we could have stopped it, left you in your home, but we could not for we did not know and had no power to do so even if we had. $$**

 **$$You couldn’t…$$** The dragon paused, appraising them, **$$You don’t know, do you? $$**

 **$$We don’t even know what you’re referring to, $$** Hermione admitted.  **$$Would you educate us on our obvious lack of Knowledge? $$**

 **$$It is not my place to say, $$** The Horntail informed them, **$$But once you understand, call on us, and one shall come to help you. $$** She paused, then turned to the Harry, **$$Why did you seek my nest? $$**

**$$I am forced to participate in a dangerous competition.  The Fools in charge hid a false egg among your eggs, a clue to the next task they have prepared.  I sought that clue. $$**

Slowly, the Horntail moved to her nest, inspecting the eggs within.  The Dragon handlers backed up as she approached closest to them, waved back by Hermione.  Inspecting each egg, she found the dead one, the one of metal.  Carefully extracting it, she carried it over and placed it upon the ground at Harry’s feet.  

 **$$Here is your clue, Great one$$** she looked at their arms and her barb joining them.  **$$The barbs of my tail are poisonous, I can aid you with that wound if you allow me.  It will be painful, but less so than your clumsy healers. $$**

After a nod from Hermione, Harry turned to the Handlers.

“Leave us be,” He yelled at them, “You placed us in this danger, so you have no place here.”  Turning to the judges, he called “You screwed this up, let someone else fix it.”

The Horntail careful, slowly approached the pair.  She gripped the point of the barb, braced them, and pulled.  Their screams of pain as the barb finished its way through their arms caused the Handlers to start forward again, only to stop as Harry waved them off.

Carefully placing the barb aside, the Horntail leaned back on her haunches, a pricked her own finger pad, causing a small drop of blood to seep from the wound.  Carefully coming back down, she spoke again. **$$Let me see your arms$$**

As they presented their ravished forearms, she allowed a single drop of her blood to fall on each open wound. Drawing her claw back, she leaned down, and slowly exhaled.  

A wave of warm, tingly air washed over them.  Aches eased, scratches closed, the mild burn Harry had from being around so much fire eased.  And as they watched, the gaping holes where the barb had pierced their arms, healed.  The sensation they felt was like a lot of static electricity, an ambient force, but it was more than that.  Harry felt this force had a wild feeling to it, untamed, like Hermione’s hair.  

 **$$It is done$$** The horntail intoned as she withdrew.  

 **$$Thank you$$** Harry bowed, **$$is there anything i can do to repay your kindness? $$**

 **$$Fulfill your calling, keep your heart true, and tell the little frightened ones I prefer pig to cow.$$**   She chuckled.

 **$$We don’t know this calling you speak of, $$** Hermione stated, then smiled.  **$$But my heart stands beside me, and we shall inform the others of your preference as well. $$**

The Giant Horntail nodded, then turned and lumbered over to her nest, curling around the fragile eggs within.

Harry turned towards Hermione, and noting the look in her eyes as she returned the glance, started bracing himself for the conversation he was sure they’d have later.  Taking her hand, he picked up the golden egg from the ground, and turned to exit the Arena.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

 

—————————————————————

The judges seemed to be arguing for a long time before they turned to the gathered Champions. 

They’d each been looked over by Madam Pomphrey, treated for their injuries, and released for the scoring.  They now stood, or in Victor’s case sat, on the dais where the judges had observed the task.  

“It appears, we have an issue we must address before scoring.” Dumbledore stated, his voice amplified so all could hear.  “Miss Granger, come forward please.”

Hermione strode defiantly forward from the nearest seats, where she’d been forced to remain when Harry ascended the stairs to the judges’ platform.  When she arrived, she stood beside Harry, taking his hand in hers.

“Miss Granger, why did you interfere in the task?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“Because no one else was going to.” Hermione said defiantly, “You lot forced a fourteen-year old to confront one of the most dangerous creatures known to wizard kind.  He’ll be fine, you thought, while he was being batted around the arena.  He was outmatched from the beginning, yet you sat there and watched.  When would you have stopped it?  After he was dead?  As the dragon was swallowing pieces of him?  He’s the most important person in the world to me, of course I was going to help him, once I saw you weren’t.”

The crowd murmured at the young women's disdain.  The judges seemed taken aback at her vehemence.  They looked back and forth between them, Dumbledore at least looked abashed.  Madame Maxime appeared contemplative, and Karkaroff was obviously disdainful.  Crouch and Bagman were odd though.  Bagman seemed like it was all good, very entertaining, while Crouch looked upset his event had started such controversy.

“Be that as it may,” Dumbledore said sadly, “You aided your school’s Champion and as such…”

“No I didn’t.” Hermione cut him off defiantly.

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore looked perplexed.

“Sir, I am a Hogwarts student,” Hermione explained slowly, as if to a small child, “The Hogwarts Champion is Cedric Diggory,” She pointed at Cedric, “Harry is not the Hogwarts Champion, therefore I did not aid my school Champion.”

“I…” Dumbledore paused, then turned for a conference with the other judges.  Despite the obvious silencing spell, Karkaroff was obviously not liking the decision.  As they returned to face the crowd, Dumbledore continued.  “Your logic is impeccable as ever Miss Granger, However you did interfere in the task.”

“How, sir?” Hermione once again cut him off, “Anyone could have entered to aide a champion; I was simply the only one who chose to do so.”  She glanced at Harry apologetically, “And I did it despite the Champion in questions desire for me not to.”

“Is this true, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted, “While I accept her reasons, if it were my choice, Hermione would never have entered the arena, never been in danger.”

“I see,” Dumbledore sighed.  “Very well then, on to the scores.  First, Cedric Diggory.”

Behind Dumbledore, each judge raised his or her wand, and a number appeared above them.  A “5” from Karkaroff, “8” from Maxime, “7” from Crouch, “9” from Bagman, and Dumbledore an “8”.

“Mr. Diggory receives a total of 37 points.  Now for Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore announced over the boos aimed at Karkaroff.

Again numbers appeared above each judge, another “5” from Karkaroff, an “8” from Maxime, another from Crouch, Bagman gave her a “7” and Dumbledore a “9”.

“Miss Delacour receives 37 points.  The scores for Mr. Krum please.”

The roar of the crowd was almost as loud as during the event, only hostile, as Karkaroff raised a “10” above his head.  The other scored were a “7” from Maxime, and “8” from Crouch, “7” from Bagman and a “7” from Dumbledore.

“A total of 39 for Mr. Krum.” Dumbledore sighed, then overpowered the crowd to announce, “And finally the scores for Mr. Potter.”

The judges each indicated their scores, Maxime, gave an “8”, Crouch a “7”, Bagman a “7” and Dumbledore a “7”. The crowd pushed against the barrier, trying to reach Karkaroff as he raised his score last with a sneer, a “0”.  The other champions looked at each other, before holding a quick conference.

“May I Speak?” Asked the amplified voice of Krum.

Looking quite surprised, Dumbledore nodded.

“I object to the obvious bias in the judging of this event.  Certain individuals are obvious in their manipulations of the scores, therefore, ve vish to do something about it.” Krum indicated Fleur and Cedric, “Harry Potter did amazing things for one in only his fourth year.  Not only did he survive, but vhen he exited the arena, he had no injuries and did no damage to the other eggs.  To recognize what others obviously missed, ve each vish to transfer 2 points from our scores to his.”

The crowd cheered.

“As noble a gesture as this is, Mr. Krum.” Dumbledore sighed, “I’m afraid that you cannot.  The scores given are the scores you must accept.”

The crowd booed, several items of unmentionable quality were thrown at Karkaroff.

“In zat case,” Fleur raged, “We wish to censure Headmaster Karkaroff for violating the intent of this tournament and blatant manipulation of the scoring.”

“Unfortunately, you are not allowed to do so.” Dumbledore informed her. “A Champion cannot institute censure against the other schools’ judges as it is often considered to the initiating Champion’s benefit.”

“Am I?” Asked Krum, “If I’m calling for my own Headmaster to be censured, I obviously can’t be doing so for my benefit.”

“It shall be… discussed.” Dumbledore sighed.  

 


	15. Chapter 15 -The Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N –recently picked up an amazing Beta in Kaystar742, who has been kind enough to point out a lot of my mistakes, though any that remain are still mine.  And as always though I don’t say it enough, thanks to Karasunova for telling me when my muse is smoking the good stuff.  Without further ado, here we go again.

**15 The Ties That Bind**

 

“HARRY!”

The couple barely had time to brace before a redheaded missile impacted Harry in the side, the force separating them a little.  

“Ginny?  What the…”

“Oh, I was so scared Harry,” the redheaded witch mumbled into his chest, refusing to let go while using one hand to try to push Hermione away, “I couldn’t believe how dangerous it was.  I was so worried about you.”

“Ginny…” Harry tried again, fighting her efforts to shove herself between him and Hermione.

“The Gryffindor’s are setting up a party in the common room for you,” Ginny rambled on, still trying to place herself by Harry’s side, “We need to hurry if we want to get good seats.”

“Ginny _stop_ ,” Harry let his anger slip into his tone as she finally forced Hermione’s hand from his.  Rounding on the young witch, who now had his freed hand in a death grip.  “I don’t know what you’re on about, but this needs to stop Ginny.”

“But Harry, I love you, we’re meant to be together,” she whined, then squealed as Fred and George grabbed her arms and started extracting her from Harry.

“Sorry about this mate,”

“Yeah, we’ll keep an eye on her while you make you way up to the tower.”

“We’ll see you later,” 

“This has got to stop,” Harry mumbled as Hermione regained her spot on his arm and they watched the twins cart heir sister away.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, a moment of your time?” McGonagall called to them as they started back to the castle.  

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione replied, pulling Harry by their joined hands towards their transfiguration teacher, “How can we help you?”

“I need you both to back a small overnight bag,” McGonagall answered quietly, “You’re excused from any assignments given over the weekend, pack enough for 2 nights.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, curious why they were leaving the school.

“Crawley,” the Scotswoman answered, her face a mask of innocence, “As Deputy Headmistress, I've determined you require a consultation with your guardians regarding your condition,” and then winked at them.

“Yes Professor,” Hermione said, excitement barely restrained, “When will we leave?”

“As soon as you’re packed, come to my office,” Minerva supplied, “Officially you are being held in the Hospital wing for observation.”

“Understood,” Hermione replied, again pulling Harry along by their joined hands.

 

__________________

 

When they arrived in the Gryffindor common room, they were immediately swarmed by well-wishers.  Well, Harry was, Hermione was gently, but assuredly, forced to the side as everyone crowded around Harry.  Noticing this as they strained to keep ahold of each other, Harry started to get frustrated when their grip finally failed once more and they were swiftly separated.

“ENOUGH!” he bellowed, and all activity stopped.  Glaring at every person between himself and Hermione, he held each person's gaze until they wilted away, clearing a path for her to join him.

“I see my fair weather following has returned,” he snarled wryly as she joined him.  His anger eased slightly as she took his hand, “I really don’t think they understand.”

“Understand what mate?” Ron asked casually from behind him, “You just defeated a dragon, of course you’re a hero.”

“And you obviously are a walking befuddlement charm if you think we’re speaking to you,” Harry replied without turning around, “As for the rest of you, you were so happy to have someone notorious, that the first thing you do is separate him from his girlfriend and the ONE person who stood by him throughout this ordeal.”

“There are four people with the right to talk to me right now,” heads hung low as he swept his gaze around, “Care to guess who?”

“Hermione obviously,” Neville called out, causing everyone to chuckle.

“Yes Neville,” Harry grinned, “Hermione is a rather obvious one.  As are you.”

“Thanks mate,” Neville said gratefully, “Are the twins the other two?”

“Yup,” Harry confirmed, “now do any of you three have any questions for us before we go back to the Hospital wing?”

“Yeah, why are you going to the hospital wing?” asked one of the twins.

“Pomfrey wants us under observation for the weekend,” Hermione explained, “While it appears to be healed, we went through a lot.  Plus I think she wants the rest of the school to settle after everything that happened before we have to deal with them.”

“What did happen in the arena?” the other twin asked.

“We’re not sure.  What did you see?” Harry asked.

“We saw Hermione jump in to help you,” started one twin.

“You both got thrown around,”

“Then the Dragon tried to smash you,”

“And there was a blinding flash of gold light.”

“The dragon bowed to you,”

“And then it gave you the egg.”

“Then it healed you, I think.”

“Definitely, no holes in their arms.”

The couple looked at each other as every eye turned towards them.  Then Hermione turned back to the twins.  

“We’re not exactly sure ourselves,” she admitted, “Give us some time to get sorted and we’ll tell you what we know, fair?”

The rumble around the room indicated no one was happy with that answer but almost everyone was afraid to say so.  Almost everyone.  Cormac McLaggen, a boisterous 5th year, had apparently not learned from Ron’s example.

“Oh come on Potter,” Mclaggen challenged, “It can’t be that difficult if a squib and a muggleborn could do it.”

McLaggen’s first hint that he was in deep trouble was when everyone suddenly got as far away from him as possible.  The second should have been Harry’s cool tone as he replied, but he had been dumb enough to start this conversation, so missing that wasn’t unexpected.

“Just who are you calling a squib?” asked a glowering Harry, “And what does having non-magical parents have to do with anything.”

“Come off it Potter, Everyone knows you get by on luck, not skill,” McLaggen preened, “And they also know that muggleborns are inherently weaker and less adapted to wizarding life.”

“If it’s such a handicap to be born to a non-magical family, why is Hermione here,” Harry put his arm around his girlfriend and squeezed, “Not only the top of the class, but scoring higher than anyone in the last 100 years or so?”

“She’s cheating obviously,” Cormac waved him off, “Not that a squib like you would understand.”

Harry cocked his head, considering the room behind Cormac.  Sighing, he turned to Hermione.  “Would you like to educate this moron or would you rather not dirty your wand with him?”

“You think he’d learn better from me?” Hermione asked innocently.

“Of course, a squib is still part of a magical family, in his view, a muggleborn has no place,” Harry shook his head, “Just like Malfoy this one is.”

“In that case…” Hermione trailed off, looking past Harry at Cormac, to the wand already in his hand, then her wand flicked up and a wave of power and a trio of sparks shot forth as she called out “ _Repulso, Conjuncta, Langlock, Rictusempra.”_

The effect on the arrogant teen was immediate.  The wave carried the now confused teen back towards the wall of the common room, where the first spark stuck him to the wall, the next prevented him from speaking, and the last one caused him to start laughing and trying to move.  The teen tried to move as Harry walked towards him, closing the distance between them.

“You just got beat by someone you called a cheater, and implied didn’t deserve magic.  Maybe it's you who doesn’t deserve it,” he said softly, yet everyone in the room heard him.  “If she isn’t worthy, or as powerful as she seems, getting out of this should be no issue for a proud pureblood like you.”

The crowd parted as he and Hermione moved towards the stairs and up to pack for the weekend.

 

______________________

 

After instructing the twins to dispel the tickling charm 5 minutes after they left, and the langlock after a couple hours, but leave the sticking charm.  The pair made their way to McGonagall’s office.  

“Thank you professor,” Hermione said as they were ushered into the transfiguration office.

“You’re welcome Miss Granger,” McGonagall replied, looking at the downcast teens.  “Any trouble I should now about?”

“Just a minor confrontation in the common room,” Harry sighed.

“Mister Weasley again?” Minerva sighed back

“Actually, no,” Hermione countered, “Cormac McLaggen.  Called me worthless for being muggleborn, said I was cheating to get my top position in the class, and called Harry a Squib.”

“And what happened to him?” McGonagall’s arch expression caused a bit of fear to percolate through the teens, though they stood their ground.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Harry said innocently.

“You didn’t?” Mcgonagall was surprised, then looked at Hermione, “Miss Granger?”

“I just gave him an opportunity to prove himself right,” Hermione answered the unasked question with a hint of smugness, “I stuck him to the wall and cast a langlock and a tickling charm.”

“Oh my,” McGonagall barely managed to hide her amusement as her stern expression cracked, “I suppose I should go release him.”

“No need professor,” Hermione informed her, “We told the twins to release the tickling charm 5 minutes after we left.  The _langlock_ in a couple hours, but to leave the sticking charm.  It should fail sometime partway through the night by my guess.”

“I see,” the Deputy headmistress smirked, “I shall ensure he’s free tomorrow morning then, unless someone complains before then.”

“Thank you professor”

 

__________________________

 

The scene in Crawley was a bit surprising to the couple.  Harry had half expected a cooler reception now that he was formally dating Hermione, despite the talk he’d had with Hermione’s dad.  What he certainly had not expected, was the bone crushing Hermione style hug from both her mother and her father when they arrived.

“Oh dear,” Anne cried on his shoulder as she embraced him, “We were so worried.”

“It’s good to see you whole and hale son,” George added.

“I…” emotions washed over Harry, causing him to pause, “Thank you.”

Once the greetings were over, and they were settled in the living room, Anne turned to the two teachers.

“How in the world do you justify sending a 14 year old boy up against a bloody Dragon?” she demanded, “How many full grown Wizards or Witches could survive that?”

“Mum,” Hermione cut in, “Before you go ballistic, I want you to know that once we found out about them, Professor McGonagall went to the Headmaster and tore a bloody strip off of him.  She fought hard to get the task changed, or something to protect the champions.  While he refused to change the task, he assured her that steps had been taken to ‘ensure the safety of the champions’.  Wasn't that how he said it?”

“It was actually: ‘I assure you every measure has been taken to ensure each champion is equally protected,’” Minerva corrected, “At the time I took it to mean he was taking measures to protect them, but I think he may have just meant everyone would have the same protections, that is none, as every other champion.”

“That manipulative…” George began.

“I’m not sure that’s exactly fair,” Harry cut in, “While I do suspect he wasn’t taking the challenge of the dragons as serious as we were, when we approached Cedric the next morning to ensure that he knew about the dragons, Fleur and Viktor had already told him, and asked him to pass the information onto us,” he paused, “It may be that Dumbledore saw to it that everyone was as prepared as they could be.”

“It’s possible,” admitted Hermione, “but he still could have done more, gave each champion access to protective armor or emergency portkeys or something.”

“Or he could have called the whole thing off,” Anne interjected.

“Actually, he couldn’t,” Minerva admitted, “When Harry’s name first came out, it was suggested, however the Goblet constitutes a Magically Binding Contract.  If the Tournament was called off, ALL of the Champions would lose their magic as they did not complete the tournament.  They actually found a precedent for it in the history books, the 71st tournament I believe it was.”

“So what now?  Can he stop now that he’s competed?” George asked.

“No,” Harry sighed, “I have to complete the tournament, or die trying.”

“We’ll get you through this,” Hermione assured him from where she was curled up on his lap.  “We got you through the first task.”

“Speaking of which,” Pomfrey cut in, “Can I ask what exactly happened?  I was tending to Mr. Krum and didn’t see anything.  Plus it seems no one is exactly sure _how_ you survived.”

The couple looked up at all four adults who turned to them expectantly.  Hermione turned back to Harry and whispered in his ear.

“We might as well, if we can’t trust them, who can we trust?” her voice laced with fear, but also with perseverance.

“Ok,” Harry nodded, “We’re not exactly sure to be honest,” he took a deep breath to gather himself, “Our plan went sideways from almost the first step.  The Horntail was on me as soon as I entered, and I was barely evading the attacks.  Thank Merlin for _Protego Solarum._   Anyway, about that point Hermione got it in her head to jump the fence and help me,” he kissed her cheek to take any sting from his words.

“She what?” Anne asked incredulously.

“She jumped into the arena to help me,” Harry replied defensively, “And probably saved my life, even if I would have wished she’d stayed safe,” he held up his free hand to forestall another interruption, “Let us finish.  Anyway, at that point we got rather beat up, and the dragon was about to smash us when… when this golden light burst from us.”

“Gold light you say?” Pomfrey inquired.

“Yeah, it stopped most of the dragons attack, a single barb from its tail pierced our arms,” Hermione continued, “We were enveloped, surrounded by this light and a sense of… peace?  Contentment?”  She looked at Harry as she struggled to find the right description.

“I’m not sure either,” Harry replied to the unasked question, squeezing her in his arms as he did so, “Definitely powerful though.

“Anyway, as the light faded, the dragon had moved between us and the dragon handlers who’d finally entered to save us,” Hermione snorted, “but it was in our defense.  She then turned to us and apologized.  Shocked both of us pretty bad.”

“Do you mean to say you actually _talked_ to a dragon?” McGonagall asked incredulously.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry nodded, “Somehow, we understood her, and could speak back to her as well.  We explained why we were there, she gave us the egg, healed us, then she made a promise too,” he looked at the adults staring amazed at him, “She said once we understood our calling, to summon them and someone would come to help.”

“You were healed by a dragon?” Pomfrey asked in awe, “How?”

“She pulled the barb out,” Hermione explained, “She placed a drop of her blood in the holes in our arms, and breathed over us.”

“It was like standing in a lightning storm,” Harry added, “I could feel the power washing over us, and everything was healed; bumps, bruises, cuts, both puncture wounds, everything.”

“Did she say anything else?  Anything at all may be important?” Pomfrey asked, her tone borderline frantic.

“Not really,” Harry said a bit leerily, “other than to stay true to our hearts.”

“And she called us Great Ones,” Hermione added, “Not sure…”

“A dragon called _you_ great ones?” Pomfrey barely contained her incredulity, “My word.”

“What is it Poppy?” Minerva asked harshly.

“Minerva, my line is Druidic,” Pomfrey said obviously forcing herself to calm, “we view history differently than most magical societies.  At one point we called dragons friends.  Or the Great Flyers.  They have a much deeper and richer society than any give them credit for.  When Hagrid says they’re seriously misunderstood creatures it’s an understatement,” Minerva looked askance at her, “They’re magically intelligent creatures Minerva!”

“Magically intelligent….” McGonagall looked shocked.  “You mean-”

“Yes, in fact they tend to be smarter than us,” Poppy confirmed, “and have a magic all their own.  The last person to be healed my dragon magic was Merlin himself.”

The room fell silent.  Each was rocked back by that revelation.  Anne and George could understand that bit, but thinking about it slightly overloaded them.  Minerva had her worldview flipped on its head, which was an understatement where Harry and Hermione were concerned.  They were reeling from the fact that one of these ancient powers called them Great Ones.

“But why would they… would she, reveal this to us?”  Hermione asked her face scrunched up in thought, “It’s obvious they’ve been hiding this from wizards, why let the cat out of the bag?”

“I’m not sure,” Pomfrey admitted, “but it may have been the magic that saved you.”

“Any idea what it was?”

“Maybe,” Poppy hesitated, “May I cast the detection spell again?”

“Sure, I guess,” Hermione said, confused by the change.

“ _In Vincula Revelare”_ The mediwitch incanted.

The room seemed to swirl as magic spun and concentrated around the Harry and Hermione.  Every person in the room gasped as a golden fire began to envelope the young pair, licks of Silver and bronze, of crimson and midnight blue, spread through the flames.  As the Magic storm eased, the fires calmed to a gentle aura of purest gold, then constricted to a solid bar of gold from one teens heart to the others.  As it too finally faded, silence reigned.

“What,” Hermione paused, “What was that?”

“That Ms. Granger,” Poppy sighed, “is a complication.”

“What do you mean a complication?” Anne demanded, “You set them on fire!”

“I don’t think it was real fire mum,” Hermione defended the healer, “It was magic itself, wasn’t it?”

“Yes dear,” Poppy confirmed, “and what it indicated is a complication only because it will interfere with the tests I was using to monitor Hermione’s changes. Well, that and one other bit.”

“They have a heart bond, don’t they?” Minerva asked, her normally calm demeanor clearly rattled at this point.

“Yes Minerva,” Poppy agreed, “The strongest bond recorded, possibly stronger than Merlin’s.”

“Ok, can you please explain for us poor Muggles what the hell you’re talking about?” Anne demanded, her voice cracking.

“And for us?” Harry asked, once again holding tight to Hermione.

“Yes, of course,” Madam Pomfrey agreed, “It’s one of the most ancient and powerful bonds known to wizards.  To be clear, a heart bond does not always mean the pair will marry or even have a romantic relationship.  It is the case previously, but not assured.  This bond is also one of the rarest.  By rare I mean there are only three recorded verified golden heart bonds in History. Two of them married”

“Only Three?” George asked in amazement, “But if it’s so rare, how did you recognize it?”

“To be blunt, because I’m a romantic,” the healer admitted, “A heart bond is the thing of legends to a romantic.  Every girl dreams to one day meet someone they know, with no doubt or hesitation, will always be there for her.  That is the basis of a heart bond.  Trust.  Trust with your feelings, with your hopes and dreams, with your life.  But the catch, and yes there’s a catch, is it must be proven and the trust must have no doubts.  Think soul mate with proof.”

“The troll,” Minerva said softly, “The potion room.  The Basilisk.  Professor Lupin and the Dementors.  The goblet and that bloody dragon.”

“Those are likely the key events,” Pomfrey confirmed, turning to the Granger parents, “What it means is George, Anne, is if these two went into some danger, the only way they’d come out is together.  Dead or alive, they’d stay together to the end.”

“You mean they’d rather die than live apart?” Anne asked in horror.

“No,” Minerva cut off Anne’s line of thought, “It means they’d give everything to see the other made it through.  Like what happened with the Tournament.  I’m not sure how much information you were given about the troll incident their first year, but Mr. Potter literally jumped on the back of a twelve foot mountain trolls back to try and save your daughter,”  she paused and looked at the couple, then pressed on, “What is not known to anyone other than myself and professor Flitwick, is that during the fight, Mr. Potter managed to vanish the trolls brain.”

“I did?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes Mr. Potter,” McGonagall sighed, “I’m sorry to have kept it from you two, but no one would have believed it.  They barely believed you managed it as it was.”

“But how did-” Harry began.

“Trolls are so basic in nature,” Minerva explained quickly, “They can survive for a few moments with no brain.”

“Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked, her voice thoughtful.

“Yes dear?”

“What was the other complication?”

“Figures you’d catch that,” Pomfrey sighed, “The catch is the heart bond that didn’t marry was a pair of warriors that were closer than brothers, Merlin Emrys and Artur Pendragon.  Because of the bias of the wizarding world this instance was largely ignored.  It was later decided that any heart bond between a man and a woman would also constitute a Wedding Bond, a permanent one once consummated.”

“A wedding…” Anne lost her power of speech, and looked at her daughter.

Hermione had stiffened in Harry’s arms.  Harry had frozen in place.  As they recovered from the shock, they turned to each other, fear in their eyes.  What would the other think?  To be forced into this, not given a choice…  

Harry slowly brought his hand up to cup Hermione’s face, holding her gaze as he tried to push the fear down, tried to convey support and understanding.  He resisted the desire to replace her teeth with his as he saw her biting her lower lip in worry.  Pushing everything else aside, he slowly, gently pulled her face closer to his, finally resting his forehead against hers.

“Why is it always us?” he whispered, smiling a bit at her surprised chuckle, then continued softly “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” Hermione agreed, and kissed him gently.

 


	16. Reflections and Consequences

**16**

**Reflections and Consequences**

  
  


It ended up being a very long night.  While the adults went back and forth about what was or was not true about the pair, Harry and Hermione were in their own little world.  They’d moved off, begging everyone to give them a chance to gather themselves, since they’d not had a chance since the fight with the dragon.  So sitting together in the study, door shut, Hermione on Harry’s lap as they tried to figure out what had happened.

“I warned you about my luck,” informed Harry, grinning a bit.

“Like I needed any warning,” Hermione huffed, “I’ve been there for most of it.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she cut him off, snuggling into his side, “I’m just trying to get a grip on things.”

“Well, let’s take it one step at a time,” Harry hugged her to him, “just like you always tell me to.  The Tournament.”

“Is a complete…” Hermione’s snappish responce trailed off, “Sorry, I just hate how you’re being forced to compete.”

“Me too,” Harry sighed, “but it is a factor now.  I also suspect the judges are less than happy you found a justifiable way to help me.”

“Serves them right for not finding a way out of it for you.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t do it twice…” Hermione grinned evilly as he gulped, “Anyway, at this point there’s not much we can do about it.  We have to figure out the clue of the egg, then train for the next event.”

“Yeah, nothing hard there.”

“Prat,” Hermione chuckled as she playfully slapped him.

“OK, so the Tournament is a deal with it as we go item.  What about your, our, condition?”

“Which one?” Hermione sighed.

“Let’s start with the full moon,” Harry said, “You transformed further this last time, any idea why?”

“Well, the best guess Madam Pomfrey and I have is either a side effect of trying the Wolfsbane potion, or some one time unknown factor.”

“So it’s also a wait and see kind of thing?”

“Mostly,” Hermione bit her lip, “The next moon we’re not going to do anything else, just see where the effects are at before planning for the first moon of the new year.”

“On the plus side, it looks like we’re making progress with the Animagus training.  McGonagall said if we continue, soon we’ll start trying to meet our forms and possibly be ready to attempt minor transformations by early spring.”

“True, we do have that to look forward to.”

“And now the 800 kilo gorilla in the room,” Harry tensed under Hermione as he said it.

“I’m not going to apologize for helping you.”

“I know, I wish you would have stayed safe, but I can't blame you because we both know I’d have done the same,” Harry admitted, “I still hated seeing you hurt.”

“Well, now you know how I've felt the last 4 years.”

“Point,” Harry sighed, “I have no idea what or how to feel about any of this.  I just got used to someone caring for me, possibly loving me-”

“Definitely loving you,” Hermione interjected, turning a pouting face towards him.

“Fine, someone loving me, and suddenly we’re effectively married, or will be if we ever… er.. You know,” Harry’s blush was an incredible shade of crimson, “with powers no one has seen or heard of in centuries.  Bloody hell Hermione, we were being compared to Merlin!”

“Language Harry!” she said reproachfully, but without any sting, “It is the kind of thing you seem to attract to yourself though.  Like a twenty meter long Basilisk.”

“Not my fault!”

“Never said it was…” Hermione looked away from him, and he felt her tense beneath his arm, “Do you regret what has happened?”

“Do I regret what happened?  No,” Harry admitted, then pulled her close again. “Do I regret  _ how _ it happened?  Yes. I don’t know what would have happened had it gone another way, but I know that this is going to make things change, good and bad, and we’ll lose some opportunities.”

“What do you mean?’ She asked softly from his chest.

“I mean if Pomfrey is right, and we are married, the choice has been taken from us.  The relationship we were building just got bigger and more complicated without our getting the chance to build a foundation.  I care deeply about you Hermione, that’s not in question, but wouldn’t you like to have had me ask you to marry me? To give you a ring, ask your father's blessing?”  he kissed the top of her head, “I wanted to build the strongest relationship we could, now we are basically married, we don’t know what it means, or what we mean to each other fully.  And if we ever get… intimate, it becomes permanent.”

“We do know, at least some,” Hermione reassured him, “Do you think I’d have jumped into that arena for just anyone?  Would you have sat next to just any petrified girl for a month, reading and explaining what happened in class?”

“No,” Harry sighed, “and I agree, there’s no one I’d rather go through this with than you.  I mean what are my other options, Ginny? The fan girl who can barely speak to you and tries to cling to me?”

“Harry,” Hermione’s tone was warning him he’d done something wrong, “In the future, please refrain from even joking about marrying one of your fangirls, unless her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Yes dear,” Harry said reflexively, but grinned to take any sting out of it. “Though if we’re married, isn’t it Hermione Potter now?”

“I…” Hermione twisted to look at him.  She gazed into his eyes before blushing and softly grinning as she finished, “I like the sound of that.”

“I do too.”

 

________________________________

 

The couple returned to the living room a short while later and joined the adults in their conversation.

“Now that you two have returned,” Anne interrupted the current conversation, “Poppy, could you explain more about what to expect with this bond these two share?”

“Of course,” Pomfrey agreed, “Though I have to warn you most of this is hearsay and conjecture.  There really isn’t enough information to tell for sure.”

“Understood,” Minerva said, “but we need at least a general idea.”

“Well, from what little I know,” the healer began, “we should be able to keep the Magical marriage portion from becoming common knowledge, in the cases of magical bonds they are automatically recorded at the ministry.  So at least until someone specifically looks for it, or tries to make a marriage contract for one of them, it should be a secret.”

“Marriage contracts?” Hermione said in dismay, “People still use those?”

“Mostly older pureblood families,” Minerva explained, “but yes, they are still used.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about that,” Hermione said softly, “What else?”

“Physical contact is pivotal to the bond settling.  I’ve already noticed you two tend to hold hands more or sit together, even more than you used to.  I expect this is an unconscious action on your part due to the bond. The down side to this is it isn’t a when you have time thing.”

“Can you explain that more?” Anne asked.

“I mean they’ll need physical contact a lot, almost all day in fact,” Pomfrey expanded, “First of all, while I doubt this will be the case with you two, the bond doesn’t guarantee a relationship.  I know, the Ministry deems it so, but it doesn’t mean the bond makes you a couple. You, both of you, are equals, and if for some reason an intimate relationship doesn’t occur, it shouldn’t negatively affect the bond, at least once it’s settled.”

“Makes sense, the bond can only enhance what emotion is there, not create it,” Hermione said softly, “What can it do?”

“Well, I’m not sure but given the immediate effects, some form of communication enhancement is evident.  Though nothing was noted on that for any other pair.”

“Side effect or something else entirely?” McGonagall asked, “Maybe something latent brought forth by the bond and shared between them?”

“Possible,” Poppy acknowledged, “and sharing is something this bond does well.  Expect difficulties with spell casting for a while, it is likely the bond will share your power with each other.”

“So a power boost?” Hermione asked, “Or a common pool?”

“We’ll have to see on that, Personally I suspect a bit of both,” Pomfrey answered, “A sum greater than the parts kind of thing.  You may also gain increased mental abilities. Each report is very generic and never anything directly from the bond pair, but each seems to confirm at least a sense of the others condition.”

“So we’ll know if the other is in trouble or something?”

“Probably, possibly even some form of deeper mental communication, time will tell.”

“So basically expect more weirdness soon,” Harry quipped, “just what we need.”

“And lastly,” Pomfrey began, looking slightly nervous at this, “For the next several months, possibly a couple years, they’ll desire near constant physical contact.  There is one tale saying that the bonded pair exhibited signs of physical and magical distress when too far removed from each other for extended periods during the settling of the bond.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Hermione commented, “We already hold hands a lot, that should satisfy the bond most of the time.”

“While you’re awake, yes.” Pomfrey confirmed as she turned to McGonagall, “However, the need won’t stop when you go to bed.”

“You mean…” George’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening.  

“Unfortunately yes,” Poppy sighed, “These two will likely need to share a bed for more than just the full moon for the foreseeable future.  Once the bond settles it won’t be as critical, though I suspect they’ll sleep better together than apart even then.”

Before anyone could say any more, George got up and walked out of the room.  Both Hermione and Anne started to get up to follow before Harry cut them off.

“Let me,” he said, “I’m part of the problem and it’s better he get it out of his system now then let it fester.”

Leaving the women to continue chatting, Harry follow George… His father-in-law, to the study.  

“Sir?” Harry asked hesitantly, “Are you ok?”

“I’m losing her.”

“Losing who?”

“Hermione,” the raw emotional loss leaking into his voice, “It was hard enough when we sent her to that school for months at a time, but now I'm really losing her.”

“No you’re not,” Harry assured the older man, “She has a lot going on, yes, but she’ll never not need you.  There may be things she doesn't want you to know, or things she’ll have to do without you, but that’s part of growing up.”

“How’d you get so smart?”

“Your daughter,” Harry grinned, “I wish I could tell you everything will be fine, and I wish it was true.  But you’ve seen what my life is like, what kind of luck I have. I will probably have to face Voldemort again,and Hermione will likely be right beside me, much as I may wish otherwise.  But the worst part of it? As much as I want her to be safe, I feel better about the future knowing she’ll be beside me in that moment.

“We discussed what comes next, how this bond thing will affect us as a couple,” Harry paused, steeling himself, “and we decided it wouldn’t control us.  We’re taking things as they come, and doing the best we can. When, and neither of us thinks at this point it’s an if, we get to the point where we do become… intimate, it will be because we want it, and with the full understanding of the repercussions.”

Harry watched as an array of emotions crossed George's face.  Anger, Fear, Regret, Pride, many more. Harry was prepared for rage, anger, denial, a multitude of emotions in response to what he’d just said..  He was not prepared for what he did receive. George turned and embraced him, crushing him as he wept softly.

“Take care of my baby,” he whispered to the shocked teen, “She’s not just my responsibility now, she’s yours too.”

 

______________________

 

By the time the pair returned to the rest of the group, Harry was feeling spent.  With everything that had happened that day, the dragon, the fight in the tower, dealing with the Grangers and the emotional rollercoaster with Hermione, Harry just wanted to lay down and sleep for the next week.

Hermione immediately got up and drew her father into a hug when they returned.   Anne joined them and together they felt like they were a family again. Harry watched from the entryway, wishing he was part of something like that, wondering if it would be like that for him someday.  He turned to the professors.

“Thank you for letting us stay the weekend,” he sighed, “I wish we could talk some more, but I'm exhausted at the moment, goodnight.”

“Harry,” Hermione called as he turned to leave.  He turned back to see her stalking over to him. Grabbing his arm she pulled him back over to her parents, “You’re part of this too.”

He was immediately smothered in one of Hermione’s bone crushing hugs, followed shortly by both her mother and father.  He struggled to understand, Why? Why would they still care after everything he’d put them through? Everything Hermione had been through because of him?  What caused them to keep accepting him? Hermione’s whisper provided the answer, even if he still didn’t understand.

“You’re family too.”

Several minutes later, after saying goodnight to everyone, Hermione joined Harry in heading for bed.  When he turned towards the guest room, Hermione pulled him back towards hers.

“Hermione?” he asked, “Was there something else you wanted?”

“I want to know where you think you’re going?” she said with a blush.

“To bed?” he returned puzzled.

“Don’t you remember what Madam Pomfrey said?” She asked, eyes glued to the floor, “The bond needs us close.”

“I…” Harry tried to speak, his face turning crimson in embarrassment, “You… us… together?”

“Harry,” she looked up at him, her eyes full of acceptance and understanding, and fear.  “I trust you. We’ve done this before, and I know you’d never do anything without permission.  And… And don’t you want to sleep with your wife?”

“I…” stuttered Harry, “I do, but I didn’t think you’d… I mean… aw hell.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, I just…” Harry scrambled for words to describe what he meant, “I do, not just because the bond needs us together, but I don't want to do this for the wrong reasons.”

“Wrong how?”

“Because if we sleep together,” Harry sighed, gathering himself for the outburst to come, “Things may happen, before we’re ready.”

“Things?”

“The times we’ve slept together, we were so exhausted we were basically passed out, not sleeping.  Now, it’ll be more… we’ll be aware of what happens. What if we do something, something we’re not ready for?”

“You mean sex?” Hermione asked bluntly, deciding she’d have to take a more active role in this conversation.

“Yeah,” Harry ran his hand through his slick black hair, “Not just sex, but touching and things like that.”

“Are you saying we won’t be able to control ourselves?”

“I’m saying we’re hormonal teenagers with a bond that desires physical intimacy,” Harry said exasperated, “And the last thing I want is for something to happen we regret later.”

Hermione paused in her reply, seeing for the first time what he was afraid of.  He was afraid he’d do or say something that would upset her. He feared losing her because his body said yes when neither of them were ready, or even if they were.

“I understand Harry,” she said softly, demurely, “But do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know how beautiful you are, how amazing it is when we kiss,” Harry sighed, recalling fond memories of their kisses, “And every time I want more.  I don’t want to do or say anything that will make you uncertain, or not trust me. I want us to build to this, not be thrust into it.”

“That’s sweet of you, but don’t I get a say in this?”

“Of course but,” he was but off by her finger against his lips.

“My turn,” she said simply, “Harry, if it was anyone else, I'd probably be worried.  But this is us, we’d never do anything to intentionally hurt the other. And yes, I agree we need more time before we’re ready for any bedroom activities, but this is just sleeping.  I also understand that we can’t necessarily control ourselves when we’re asleep, but any serious actions in that regard require consciousness. I promise not to blame you for overnight wandering hands, or any conditions you may have in the morning, Okay?”

“You sure?” Harry hesitated, “I mean I do want this, but I’m afraid I want it for the wrong reasons.”

“Trust me Harry, we both do,” Hermione reassured him, “Now, are you coming to bed or not?”

“If you’re sure…” Harry hesitated, then let himself be led into the bedroom.

 

___________________

 

Hermione woke slowly the next morning, which was unusual for her.  She climbed slowly to wakefulness, savoring the warmth surrounding her.  Easing her eyes open, she stretched languidly, and halted as she felt an arm around her middle.  As she came fully awake, she realized what it was. Harry. Her boyfriend had shifted overnight, curling behind her and pulling her to him.  She felt him behind her now, and the comfort radiating from their embrace. Sighing contentedly, she wormed back into him, holding his arm around her.  

“Hmmmm,” Harry murmured.

“Good morning Harry,” She answered his drowsy mumbling.

“Morning Mione,” he returned, shifting slightly, then she felt him stiffen.

“I like this,” she assured him, still holding his arm around her.  She felt him shift again, moving his morning situation away, “Harry, I said I liked this.”

“But…”

“I said I understand it,” Hermione sighed, “To be honest it’s even a little flattering.”

“Flattering?” his confused reply came back, his voice clearly unsure.

“Yes Harry, flattering.  As if it’s nice to know I can elicit such a reaction from you.  It is proof that you desire me; that you think I'm pretty.”

“Hermione,” Harry exasperated, pulling her around to look at him, “You’re beautiful, you’d have to be blind not to see that,” Hermione blushed nicely at that, “I just hope I can be worthy of you.”

“Well, you can start by not being ashamed of how you feel,” Hermione said softly, “And don’t be afraid to show it.”  And she kissed him softly.

“Hmmm, I'll try to remember that.”

“Good.”


	17. Deep Breaths

**17 Deep Breaths**

 

Breakfast was a quiet affair that morning.  Once Harry and Hermione had finally gotten up, they’d found they rather enjoyed just lying down together, they had joined her parents in the dining room.  A full English breakfast was presented, much to the pair’s protestations.  But once everyone was served and food was being eaten, the silence began.

“Ok, what is wrong?” Hermione asked her parents, “You’ve been acting like the world has ended all morning.”

“It’s not that pumpkin,” Anne sighed, “We’re just still recovering from the revelations last night.”

“Try being the one they’re about,” mumbled Harry around his toast.

“Try being the ones who can’t understand half of it, “George returned, a little snappish. “And can’t do anything about it if they did.”

“Sorry,” Harry bent his head in regret.

“No, we’re sorry,” Anne sighed, reaching over and grabbed the couples joined hands, “We’ve lost sight of the fact that this affects you even more than us.”

“Well, unfortunately we’ve gotten used to dealing with unusual situations,” Harry sighed, “It seems if it’s unusual or abnormal, it happens to me.”

“To us,” Hermione added, squeezing his hand.

“True,” Harry conceded, “and that is probably why we seem…” he searched for the right word, “unphased?  We’re used to rolling with the punches.”

“Can you tell us more about it?” George asked, “Professor McGonagall alluded to some incidents that while we are aware of them, seemed to have more significance than we thought.”

“If you’re sure you want to know,” Harry said, glancing over at Hermione.  Seeing her slightly reluctant nod, he continued, “I’m not sure what Hermione has told you, so I’ll cover things from my perspective and she can add what she feels needs to be added from hers.  Please bear in mind though, if she hasn’t given you all the details, there’s probably a reason and to please ask her why before you let your upset start something you’ll regret later.”

Both adults nodded, understanding intellectually what was being said.  They realized after Harry’s description of the troll incident, just how toned down Hermione’s description had been.

“Let me see if I understand this,” George said after he was done, “You found out she was upset in a bathroom, took off to get her to safety, and when you found that a four meter mountain troll already there, you jumped on its back to rescue her?  And in the process the bathroom was completely destroyed, you made its brains disappear, and Hermione LIED to a teacher?”

“Pretty much sir,” Harry agreed, “but she did it for…”

“That’s the part you think I’m upset about?” George laughed, cutting him off, “though that is a pretty major change for her.  No, what amazes me is that you truly did risk your life for her.  Most eleven year olds would have run screaming, not jumped on the things back.”

“It was my fault she was there sir,” Harry admitted, “Of course I was going to help her.”

“No Harry, it wasn’t your fault, it was Ron,” Hermione pointed out.

“I didn’t stop him or stand up for you and I should have,” Harry argued, “While yes, Ron bears some responsibility, so do I.”

“You selfless, irrational…” Hermione took a deep breath, then sighed, “Fine, you have a point but you’re also the one who ran to find me when you realized I was in danger.”

“This would be cute if you weren’t discussing a near death experience,” Anne cut in, “Now what about the rest?”

So they explained the rest.  The potions room, where Harry placed his life in Hermione’s hands, drinking the potion she identified without hesitation, and how she’d cried inside fearing she’d never see her best friend again but knew he had to go on.  How he’d sat by her side while she was petrified, leaving only to take notes in class for her.  How he’d gone into the Chamber not because he was trying to save Ginny, but to avenge Hermione.  He admitted he’d expected Ginny to already be dead, but had gone anyway to get revenge on the creature that had hurt Hermione.  The night of Lupin’s attack, where they’d both tried to place themselves between the other and Lupin as a werewolf.  The dementor attack, where Hermione blushed when Harry admitted that his patronus was powered by the feeling of their embrace of a few moments before.

By the end, it was after dinner, and there wasn’t anyone who had a dry eye.  Anne and George asked the pair to excuse them, for they had some heavy thinking to do.  The older Grangers went upstairs to talk, and reflect on what they’d learned.

Harry and Hermione moved into the living room, and curled up onto the couch together.  They knew it had been a long day, but as Hermione curled into Harry, she thought it was a big step in the right direction.

  


It was Harry’s turn to wake first the next morning.  The night before he’d still blushed but had merely followed Hermione into her room when they went to bed.  He honestly enjoyed snuggling up to her at night, though he still thought he may be enjoying it too much.  Slowly moving the hand he had around Hermione down from where it was encroaching on his self-imposed no zones, he reflected how much better he was sleeping the last two nights.  Yes, there was a rather large adrenaline spike to come down off of Friday night, but even last night was one of the best night's sleep in recent memory.  He began to wonder why, other than the beautiful girl he now shared a bed with.

“Should I call the fire department?” Hermione’s sleepy voice asked.

“Huh?” Harry replied, nonplussed.

“I can smell the gears grinding as you’re trying to think,” he heard the grin in her voice.

“Gee thanks,” he grinned back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, rolling over to face him, “You seem distant.”

“It’s nothing, just reflecting on everything,” he assured her, “Plus trying to figure out if it’s just you that made the last two nights sleep the best I've ever had, or something else.”

“Oh really?” she huffed.

“Yup,” his grin grew.

“And your conclusion is?”

“Definitely you,” his matter of fact delivery lasted a whole two seconds before they both dissolved into laughter.

“Come on funny man,” Hermione chuckled, “Let’s get some breakfast and find out what the plan is for today.”

Once they were dressed and made their way downstairs, they joined the elder Grangers for the meal.  Simpler than the previous days, it was still filling.  Both youths noticed a recurring glance between the older Grangers and neither could figure out what it meant.  

“OK, what’s up?” Hermione asked as she buttered her toast, “What are you two so concerned about?”

“We’re not concerned dear,” Anne temporized, “though there are a few things we’d like to discuss with you.”

“And some of those things are for just one of you,” George cut in, glancing at Harry.

“I figured that was part of it,” Hermione admitted, “What’s the rest?”

“After lunch, we’re expecting company,” Anne continued, “Professor McGonagall is returning for you, as well as a couple other individuals, though she never identified them.”

“I see,” Hermione paused, “I wonder who she’s bringing.”

“Friends was all she said in her letter,” George said, “though she did say Madam Pomfrey would try to be here as well.”

The rest of the morning was about as expected.  A lot of discussion on what the changes each was undergoing and experiencing would affect the family dynamic, plans for Christmas, and the like.  Getting ‘the talk’ from your girlfriend/wife’s father was much worse than Harry had ever imagined, for both of them.  Fortunately they’d approached it as a ‘we’re not talking about Hermione’ situation and both had survived.

The discussion of Harry’s living arrangements for the summer however, were less than straight forward.  

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” he told the elder Grangers after their offer, “but if you become my guardians, won’t that make Hermione my sister?”

“Not really,” Anne explained, “If we were to adopt you then yes, she would.  However, if we just become your guardians, then she wouldn’t.  We had discussed this a bit last summer, when we saw the situation with your aunt and uncle, but never really did more than a basic inquiry.”

“I see,” Harry acknowledged guardedly, “so why now?”

“Several reasons,” George admitted, “For one, while we loved having you last summer, we still wanted to get to know you a bit better.  Another is now you and Hermione need to be together or you get sick or die.  And since I don't want my daughter within 5 counties of those…”

“George!” Anne cut his rant off, “Sorry dear, but you understand.”

“It’s ok,” Harry blushed, “I don’t want her near them either.”

“Anyway,” Anne continued for her husband, “We thought here would be the best option for that since we know about the situation and we don’t know how long this bond will take to stabilize.”

“We also want you to understand that however unusual the circumstances,” George added quietly, “we do consider you part of this family, this just makes it official until you can get married in our world.”

“You will let us give you a wedding here, in our world, won’t you?” Anne pressed, hope filling her words.

“Of course mum,” Hermione assured her mother as she hugged her, “We had actually discussed having a ceremony later, when we’re older.”

“I only see one potential problem,” Harry sighed, hating to disrupt the family’s anticipation.  Seeing all the eyes in the room turn towards him, he shrugged, “Dumbledore seems to have an unnatural interest in my life, both in and out of school.  He’s been unusually quiet this year, especially with the tournament, but I just know he’s going to insist on my going back to the Dursleys.”

“Well Harry,” Anne paused, “I understand that you fear his interference, but what power does he have over your decision?”

“I’m not sure to be honest,” Harry admitted, “I think Professor McGonagall could help answer that better when she gets here.  I also think that if we approach this correctly, we can arrange for things to happen the way we want them to.  I just think it’s going to take careful planning and consideration.”

“You really think Professor Dumbledore would do that?” Hermione asked.

“I think he has his own plans and ideas, some concerning me,” Harry sighed, “and he sure as hell isn’t sharing them.”

A loud knock from the front door interrupted their discussion.  Glancing at each other, Harry and Hermione drew their wands.  Anne noticed this and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” She asked quietly.

“They knocked,” Hermione said softly, moving to one side as Harry moved the other way, “Muggles would use the doorbell.”

Brow furrowing in worry, Anne slowly moved to the entry, calling out.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Madam Bones, Mrs. Granger,” came a muffled response, “I also have Auror Tonks with me.”

Looking through the peephole, and verifying that was who was waiting for them, she opened the door.  Once they were in, Anne looked up in surprise when she saw the teens had not lowered their wands, but held them steady on the pair.

“Kids?” George asked cautiously, “You know these folks.”

“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t,” Harry said cryptically, “There are ways to mimic someone else's appearance in the magical word.  Madam Bones, where did I sleep until I received my Hogwarts letter?”

“This is what you get when you let Moody teach kids,” the elder witch mumbled, “You slept in a cupboard under the stairs at your Aunt and Uncle’s.”

“When no one is supposed to know we’re here,” Hermione pointed out, “There’s no such thing as too cautious.  Auror Tonks, where did you sleep the first night you joined us for the full moon?”

“We didn’t know you were here,” the Auror answered, “And I tried to sleep on that damn couch with the lumps.  Wasn’t exactly successful at that.”

“You did look rather haggard the next morning,” Harry admitted, lowering his wand, “but if you aren’t here for us, why are you here?”

“We’re here about your relatives and you living situation,” Bones informed them, “My contacts on the muggle side are about to press charges and I was hoping to convince the Grangers to testify and offer temporary guardianship.  May I ask why you’re here?”

“Fallout from the Tournament,” Hermione explained, leading the group into the living room, “Pomfrey and McGonagall decided we could use some time away while the dust settles at school.”

“I see,” Madam Bones sighed, “And the paper certainly isn’t helping, is it?”

“Don’t know,” Harry admitted, “We came here just after the last task and haven’t seen the paper yet.”

“Boss?” Tonks inquired hesitantly.

“Go, bring back yesterdays and today's,” Bone commanded, her tone harsh, then it softened as Tonks apperated out of the house and she turned to the Family.  “Yesterday was bad enough, Today’s lays some rather serious innuendo upon you two.”

“Already?” Hermione asked, “What is it this time?  I’m dating Harry for his Money?  Potioned him?  I’m using the imperious?”

“Now dear,” Harry tried to placate her, “I’m sure my warning to Miss Skeeter was followed.”

“Warning Mr. Potter?” Bones asked.

“At the wand weighing ceremony, she drug me into a broom closet,” Harry explained, “When her quill started making things up, especially about Hermione, I kind of lost my temper…”

“And?”

“I blew her through the door....” Harry said with a hint of regret, but only a hint.  Amelia suspected that it was regret that he didn’t do more though.

“After that, I gave her an ultimatum.”

“And that was?”

“That she could print anything about me she could prove, with evidence, not hearsay,” Harry expanded, averting the head auror’s eyes.

“And what else?” Bones asked, her years of investigative work screaming that there was more.

“I may have implied that if she ever said anything bad about Hermione, they’d never find her body,” Harry tried for innocence, but his obvious fury at the woman bled through.

“I see,” Bones sighed, “While technically legal, I must remind you that we have a free press.”

“We understand that Madam Bones,” Hermione agreed from Harry’s side, “but opinion should be in the editorial section, not headlines.”

“Either way,” Bones moved on to the reason she was there, making a mental note to keep an eye on the situation, “I’m here to speak with the two of you about your intentions towards Harry,  Would you like to do this alone or with the children present?”

“They stay,” George said firmly, “We were actually discussing this this morning.”

“I see, and your decision?”

“We aren’t 100% yet,” Anne told her, “However, I believe we are leaning towards moving forward with guardianship of Harry.”

“Not adoption?” Bones asked cautiously, for that had been the Grangers initial thought on the subject.

“No,” Anne glanced at the younger couple, then continued, “We’ve decided that given the kids closer relationship, making them effectively siblings would not be a good idea.”

“Closer relationship?” Bones pressed.

“We started dating over a month ago,” Hermione explained, “Dating someone that is technically my brother would not be… it would add a wrongness to it.”

“I see,” Bones paused, turning back to the Grangers, “And you feel that is a good reason to just be his Guardian?”

“Madam Bones,” Anne said, “Let me put it this way, given their history, and how they are with each other, I’m already planning their wedding,” this statement caused the pair to blush.  Little did Madam Bones know just how true the statement was.

“I see,” Bones stated, leaning back, then looked up as Tonks returned with the papers.  Taking them from the youthful Auror, she handed them to Harry.  Shuddering in anticipation, Harry started with yesterday's paper, Hermione reading over his shoulder.

 

_Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Cheated?_

_By Rita Skeeter_

 

_Yesterday saw an unusual turnout at the first task of the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts.  The task, retrieving a golden egg from a dragon’s nest, was attempted by the four champions individually, at least to start.  The first three champions, Cedric Diggory (Hogwarts), Fleur Delacour (Beauxbatons) and Victor Krum (Durmstrang), performed admirably and completed their tasks on their own.  The fourth champion, Harry Potter, who is already suspected of cheating to enter the tournament, once again broke the rules and received help to complete the task._

_Once it was evident he was outmatched and woefully unprepared, he shouted for help and received it in the form of his girlfriend.  Muggleborn Hermione Granger, who is also suspected of misdeeds to gain her top standing, entered the arena to assist.  Upon entering the arena, both were overpowered until an unknown spell was used to enchant the dragon.  After this spell, which no one has been able to identify, the dragon merely handed the egg to the champion._

_When confronted by the judges, the couple merely pointed out that since Hogwarts had Cedric Diggory as its chosen champion, Miss Granger was not assisting her school’s champion and therefore were not breaking the rule against assisting the school’s champion.  They also denied having planned this intervention beforehand.  This seems very suspicious to this reporter, especially since I personally witnessed them plotting in the champions tent before the task._

_Later, as the scores were presented, the judges showed their blatant disregard for the fairness of the task in awarding points similar to the other champions to Mr. Potter.  Only one judge saw through this thinly veiled cheating attempt and scored Mr. Potter appropriately, the rest fell under his spell.  Even the other champions fell for this poorly disguised attention grab, as they tried to give points to Mr. Potter and even attempted to censure the judge who saw through them._

_There must be more going on here that meets the eye, and I promise you, my faithful readers, I will find the truth._

 

_For more on Mr. Potters’ cheating to gain entry into the tournament, see page 4_

_For history on the real champions, see page 5_

_For history on the tournament, see page 7_

 

Harry groaned and looked sideways at the Head of the DMLE.  Bones just arched an eyebrow and handed him the second paper, the one from this morning.

 

_More Misdeeds at Hogwarts: Mishaps and Crimes Galore_

_By Rita Skeeter_

 

_As I promised in yesterday's article, I have continued to dig into the odd occurrences surrounding the Triwizard Tournament.  In my investigation I have found even more foul deeds performed at Hogwarts, most of them by the supposed Triwizard champion: Harry Potter._

_“I don’t know what happened this summer,” reported a fellow student, who wishes to remain anonymous for fear of retribution, “Harry Potter came back changed this year.  Darker, more reclusive, even violent.  He threw his best friend across the Great Hall!”_

_“I don’t know what Granger did to Harry,” another student said, “but since they got back he hasn’t left her side, it’s like she cast a spell on him or something.”_

_Checking with her classmates, they claim she was more than capable of casting such a charm, or even brewing a love potion.   Does she have him under her spell?_

_Other students reported a fight involving the two in which they had to remove another student from the very walls of Hogwarts.  Yet another was stuck to a wall with a tickling hex cast on him, unable to free himself._

_Very few students were willing to discuss these happenings with me, leading me to wonder what they feared.  Why would they not want to tell the truth about what was happening inside those hallowed halls of our youth?  Why are they afraid?_

_Personally, I wonder just what is really happening at Hogwarts and why no one is talking about it._

 

_For more on curious happenings at Hogwarts, see page 7_

_For more on the triwizard champions, see page 8_

 

“I think we may have to make a small visit to the Prophet on the way back to school dear,” Harry sighed as he finished the article, “Rita needs her reward for such a venomous article.”

“Now Mr. Potter, I understand your upset, but I simply cannot allow you to run off and attack someone just for speaking against you,” Madam Bones stated, looking cross at him.

“You misunderstand,” Harry said evenly, “I am merely going to ask them to print a retraction of everything she doesn’t have proof of,” he grinned evilly, “Then, when she hides behind confidential sources at Hogwarts, I’m going to allow you to arrest her.”

“I’m going to arrest her?”  Bones was shocked, “And what charge will you be placing against her?  I can’t simply arrest someone for speaking their mind.”

“Of course not Director,” Hermione said sweetly, “However, after the last incident at the Weighing of the Wands, Professor Dumbledore expelled her from the grounds and forbade her from returning outside the tasks themselves, and she’s only allowed in public areas when she does return.  By her own admission, clearly printed, she was in the champions’ tent, a very non public area.”

“I see,” Bones leaned back, considering. 

“Boss, if this is true, it’s perfect,” Tonks cut in, “And once she’s arrested, we can force her to reveal her sources as part of the investigation.  News confidential sources must be revealed if they are pertinent to an active investigation.”

“Did you two plan this?” the DMLE director asked looking suspiciously at the teens.

“Plan? No,” Harry said, “Prepare for and anticipate her actions against us?  Definitely.  We may not get a full retraction, however, the Prophet would be wise to print a statement we will prepare stating the conditions surrounding the points she raised, and state that the paper is withholding further involvement pending DMLE charges of trespassing against Miss Skeeter.  They will also, hopefully, comment on the fact that almost everything expressed in Miss Skeeter's articles is conjecture and hearsay, which should not be mistaken for fact.”

“You think they will?” Tonks asked uneasily, “She sells a lot of papers for them.”

“Imagine what would happen if the Boy-who-lived started loudly declaring he refuses to read the Daily Profit because they make up their news, and he can prove it?”  Hermione stated quietly, with an evil grin, “How would that affect their sales?”

“Remind me not to piss you two off,” Tonks said fearfully, causing everyone to chuckle.

 

 


	18. Propaganda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N –thanks again to my amazing Beta in Kaystar742, who has been kind enough to point out a lot of my mistakes, though any that remain are still mine. And as always though I don't say it enough, thanks to Karasunova for telling me when my muse is smoking the good stuff. Without further ado, here we go again... BTW, I hate Rita Skeeter too

**18 Propaganda**

 

After lunch was over and Tonks and the director had left to verify the limits of Skeeter’s expulsion from Hogwarts grounds, McGonagall and Pomfrey arrived.  With them were Padfoot and Moony, much to the delight of the young couple.  Once hugs and greetings were exchanged, the group settled in for a talk.

“So kiddo,” Sirius began, “What’s this I hear about you going and getting hitched?”

“Er…” Harry hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected question.  He glanced at Hermione, sitting next to him.  Squeezing her hand, he turned back to his dogfather and grinned, “Best decision I ever made actually.”

Sirius started for a moment before barking out in laughter.

“Good one kid,” he chuckled, “You almost had me there.  Tell me, how’d you get old McGonagall in on it?”

Harry just sat there grinning, looking at his dogfather as the chuckling died off.  Sirius’s face slowly calmed, noticing the others weren’t laughing, he started seeing each serious face in turn.  Even Moony seemed more withdrawn than usual.

“Seriously?” he asked, turning back to Harry, “How?  You’re fourteen.  Even your father took longer than that.”

“Magic,” Harry replied, “works in mysterious ways,” he glanced at Hermione, “and so do friendship and love.”

“Sappy much, pup?”

“When you have a golden heart bond with your best friend, it tends to bring it out in you.”

Sirius’s jaw dropped and Moony spit out the tea he’d been drinking.  Harry chuckled as the two stared flabbergasted at his statement.

“A what bond?” Moony asked, astounded.

“A heart bond,” Pomfrey explained, “Witnessed by everyone at the first task, though I doubt many, if any, realize what it was.”

“But, but, they’re a myth,” Sirius denied, “They’re the stuff of bad romance novels and wishful thinking.”

“No, they’re just extremely rare,” Pomfrey huffed, “In fact, there’ve only been three, now four, confirmed cases in history.”

“So you’ve confirmed it?” Sirius asked.

“Friday night,” McGonagall confirmed, “Which is why we are here today.  We felt it best to give them time to settle before we discussed the repercussions of this.”

“What repercussions?” Anne asked, “They’re not in danger are they?”

“No, nothing like that,” McGonagall assure her, “Just some details and story coordination.  We have to have a legitimate reason to give them separate quarters and I felt that everyone should have a say in what we tell who.”

“Separate quarters?” Hermione asked, “Why would we… oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’ Mrs. Potter.” McGonagall confirmed, “At this point, my best idea is to grant you the Gryffindor Married Quarters off the common room.  I’m just not sure of the best reason to do so.”

Harry looked confused for a moment before a blushing Hermione leaned over to whisper in his ear, at which point Harry blushed even deeper.

“Minerva,” Remus started, “How accurate are the reports from the paper?”

“That…. Person,” McGonagall fumed, “doesn’t have a clue,” she gathered herself, “That said, there have been incidents.  None have been their fault, but they have involved Harry and Hermione.”

“Can we use them as a reason?” Lupin continued, “If they’re threatened from within their own dorms, could be use this as a security measure to ensure their safety?”

“Though I am loathe to admit it,” the Scotswoman sighed, “That was the best I could come up with as well.”

“Why make it about us?” Hermione asked, “Make it about the tournament.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just give the quarters to Harry,” Hermione said, “Because he’s a champion.  Get Sprout to do the same for Cedric.  Then it’s not about us, it’s about the tournament.”

“And what about you?” Pomfrey asked, “You won’t be able to join him this way.”

“While I'm sure you’d have no problem finding a way,” McGonagall cut off her response, “Eventually someone, probably your roommates, would notice.  Once that happens, it becomes much harder to let you two continue.”

“Actually, that’s the point,” Hermione grinned, “I get ‘caught’ sleeping out of my dorm, someone will undoubtedly accuse me of sleeping with Harry, then we just use the _Virginum Virtus_ spell to prove them wrong.  After that everyone will know we aren’t, and anyone who says we are will have no leg to stand on.”

“No,” Harry said, “I don’t want you looking like some, some, some…” Harry searched for the right word.

“While inelegantly put, I agree with Mr. Potter,” McGonagall agreed, “even if you are cleared, it will haunt you for the rest of your years at Hogwarts.”

“So hiding is better?” Hermione asked, obviously upset.  

“Yes,” Harry replied, startling her, “If we try it your way, there’s so many ways it could go sideways.  If we do it as a “For their protection and ours” situation, we’ll be underestimated in the future.”

“Or…” Remus cut in, “We do it as a ‘he’s a champion and she’s training him’ thing.”

“Remus?” McGonagall said curiously, “What are you thinking?”

“Well, Hermione had a point,” Lupin expanded, “If we make it a champion thing, it’ll take some criticism away.  So we say he’s getting the quarters as a champion.  Miss Granger has already shown her loyalty and offered to help him train.  So as not to disturb her roommates with the long hours of training, she is being offered the second bedroom in the suite.  It will have the same alarms and protections as the girls’ stairs in the common room, so she’ll have her privacy and placate the more conservative staff.”

“Then how…” Pomfrey started, then grinned, “I get it, he may not be able to enter her ‘bedroom’, but nothing is stopping her from entering his.”

“Just like the dormitory stairs.” Sirius said, “I like it.  It’s sneaky and uses the rules against those who’d argue.”

“Now, as we all know the real reasons why this must happen, I still need permission to change their sleeping arrangements.” McGonagall said softly, looking over at George and Anne.  “I understand if you two are uneasy about this.  I’m not entirely happy about it myself, but this is for their own good.”

The elder Grangers looked at each other, speaking without words in that way some married couples could.  A moment flickered between them and both turned towards the couple in question.

“Harry,” George began, his voice heavy with resignation, “I know this isn’t what either of you wanted.  Well, maybe you did want it but not like this,” even George’s grin was wry, “But I'm about to do something my mind tells me should never happen, yet my heart says the right thing.  That said, if you two get pregnant before you graduate, I will break your legs, magical superman or not,” turning to the Deputy Headmistress, “We give our permission.”

 

________________

 

Shortly after the teachers and the Marauders left, Madam Bones and Tonks returned.  They detailed how they’d verified the limitations of Miss Skeeter’s movements at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's written statement to the fact.  After a heartfelt goodbye, and several big hugs from both Granger women, the couple left with them to visit the Prophet.

“Excuse me, I’d like to speak with the Editor?”

“So would half the public, but he’s a very busy man,” the receptionist said in a bored tone, not bothering to look up from her copy of Witch Weekly, “Make an Appointment and then you can see him.”

“I think he’ll want to see me.”

“That’s what everyone says,” the same bored tone returned, “and they’re all wrong.”

“So he doesn’t want to discuss the illegal actions taken by his staff against the Boy-Who-Lived?”

This got the receptionists attention.  Looking up, she saw an older witch with a monocle and a purple haired young woman in Auror robes, along with a bushy haired girl and…

“Harry Potter?”

“Last time I checked, though I’m not sure if your paper is calling me a cheat, the next dark lord, or an attention seeking glory hound this week,” Harry grinned back at her.

“Wait one moment,” the now frazzled receptionist said as she hurried down the hallway.

“Harry…” Hermione said menacingly, “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Maybe not dear, but it worked.”

“Mr. Cuffe will see you now,” the receptionist told them as she hurried back.

They were ushered into a rather well appointed office, containing an enormous desk with two overstuffed leather chairs facing it and a couch over to one side.  A very large coffee urn sat on a table behind the desk, within easy reach of the man behind it.  The heavy set wizard behind the desk looked to be on the short side, but what he lacked in height he made up for in girth.  Seeing them enter, he set aside the papers he’d been looking at and rose to greet them.

“Mr. Potter, what can the Daily Prophet do for you today,” asked in a falsely jovial tone, “If you are here to complain, we just report the news, we don’t make it.”

“Funny you should say that sir,” Hermione said gleefully, “Because that is in fact what you have done.  One of your reporters, Miss Rita Skeeter, whom you gave a full front page story, twice, has made some allegations without proof.  By displaying her gossip pieces on the front page, lending her unconfirmed supposition credibility, you have promoted very untrue and frankly insulting gossip as reality.  We hereby request a retraction be printed, and a factual account be reported.  We also request Miss Skeeter be removed from your staff with prejudice and a formal review of the accuracy of her previous reports be conducted.”

“You do, do ya?” the man sneered, dropping his friendly facade, “Well let me tell you what missy, that’s not how it works.  We’re a newspaper, we report what happens, whether you like it or not.  So Rita’s story hurt your feelings?  Too bad.”

“So you stand by your reporter and the accuracy of her reporting and the legality of her actions?” Harry asked, still grinning.

“Of course I do,” Cuffe snapped, “Who do I believe, a prize winning reporter, or some snot nosed school kids?  Easy choice, now run along.”

“Very well Mr. Cuffe,” Harry responded levelly, “If that’s the case, have Miss Skeeter come in here and present her evidence.  I’m prepared to present mine.  I’m sure the DMLE would be more than happy to be impartial witnesses, they are after all, the upholders of the law.”

“You, what?” Cuffe fumbled, thrown off by the unexpected tact, “What do you want?”

“It’s easy Mr. Cuffe,” Hermione explained, “Miss Skeeter has made some very accusatory and inflammatory comments about both myself and Harry, we request to face our accuser and hear her evidence.  If it is as factual as you claim, then we’ll be proven wrong and be on our way.  But I wonder,” she let her tone get thoughtful, “What if we’re right?  What if she has misrepresented her facts in a way to sensationalize the story?  What would happen if someone had verifiable evidence to contradict what you have reported?  Or worse, evidence of a crime committed by one of your employees while reporting on a story for you?”

“Jumped up little pip squeak, I’ll show you...” mumbled Cuffe, making his way over to the second doorway in his office.  Opening it he bellowed, “RITA, GET IN HERE.”

A moment later the bleach blonde witch arrived wearing hideous acid green robes. 

“What do you … Oh,” Rita spotted the editor’s guests and sneered, “What are they doing here?”

“They are accusing you of falsifying a story,” the editor explained, “so we’re going to prove them wrong.”

“We are?” Rita asked incredulously.

“Miss Skeeter, in your article published Saturday morning,” Hermione began, cutting off any response from her editor, “you claimed that by receiving assistance, Harry broke the rules of the tournament.  Please cite the rule broken.”

“I don’t have to do that silly girl,” Rita denied, “This is ridiculous.”

“You may think so, however you accused Harry of breaking a rule, please state the rule he broke,” Hermione pressed, “Or can’t you?”

“This is preposterous,” Rita huffed.

“You can’t because there was no rule broken, the judges even agreed with us on that count,” Hermione turned to the editor, “That’s retraction one.” 

She turned back to Rita, “How about your claim that Harry called for help during the task, he did not.”

“Says you,” Rita sneered, “of course you’d say that.”

“Says me,” Harry cut in, “I’m willing to swear on my magic that I did not call for, nor desire, Hermione’s assistance in the arena.  I’m grateful, for I'd likely to have died without it, but I did not ask her to.  Are you prepared to swear that you saw me do so?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Rita declared, “You must have called her or she wouldn’t have entered that hell hole.”

“That is supposition,” Hermione declared with finality, “and as such not admissible as evidence.  That’s retraction two.”

“I saw you planning it in the champions’ tent,” Rita accused them, desperation tinting her voice.

“You saw us comforting each other before Harry faced a bloody dragon,” Hermione raged, then calmed, “but we’ll get to that in a moment.  First, you claimed to have knowledge of things and interviews with students about our interactions with each other.  When did you acquire these statements?”

“Huh?”

“When did you conduct your interviews?” Hermione asked as if speaking to a small child.

“At the first task,” Rita brushed the question aside.

“Here’s the problem with that,” Hermione grinned evilly, “One of the incidents you reported on happened AFTER the tournament.  And since that would prevent you from talking to anyone, given your expulsion from Hogwarts grounds outside of one half hour before and after the tasks of the tournament, I believe that is evidence of trespassing, wouldn’t it?”

“I do believe so,” Auror Tonks said, moving towards the reporter.

“Now just wait a minute, you can’t prove that!” Rita said, backpedaling.

“And you couldn’t prove what you said about us,” Harry countered, “But name your source, how and when you talked to them, and that will be considered.”

“That’s confidential!”” Rita screamed in fear, “and without it you can’t prove it.”

“Maybe we can, maybe we can’t,” Hermione grinned, “We can however, prove you violated your restrictions and therefore are guilty of trespassing.”

“Can not!” denied the witch, looking like a caged animal.

“Actually, we can, since you told us yourself,” Hermione's grin split her face, “You’re limited to the _public_ areas of the tournament, and I quote, _''I personally witnessed them plotting in the champion’s tent”_.  The champion’s tent is most assuredly _not_ public.”

“Rita Skeeter,” Tonks intoned, pulling out Magic Suppression cuffs, “you are under arrest for…”

 

_Corruption at the Prophet_

_By Megan Flowers_

 

_Yesterday marked a sad day for the Prophet as one of our own was arrested by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  Rita Skeeter, prize winning reporter, was arrested initially for trespassing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but more charges were added after her interrogation._

_The incident happened in our own editors office when Mr. Harry Potter, accompanied by Miss Hermione Granger and two members of the DMLE, confronted Miss Skeeter about her recent articles.  After confronting her with several verifiable falsehoods in her report, the young couple proceeded to point out that by her own admission, she had entered the Champion’s tent of the Triwizard tournament.  Why is this so important?  Because weeks previous, Miss Skeeter was expelled from the grounds of Hogwarts except for the public areas of the tournament up to one half hour before and after each task, to allow her time to get a seat and to vacate the premises.  Since the Champion’s tent was most assuredly not public, she was in contravention of that decree and therefore, trespassing._

_Once in custody, Miss Skeeter was questioned, and after an unsuccessful escape attempt, interrogated with Veritaserum.  From that interrogation, additional charges of blackmail, extortion, fraud, and being an unregistered animagus have been added.  No date is set for her trial, and the investigation is ongoing._

_We at the Prophet, and I personally, would like to apologize to Mr. Potter and Miss Granger for the stories that caused this incident.  As we review the reports, the Prophet will be issuing corrections and updates on all Miss Skeeters previous reports.  At this time, we can report this about the Tournament:_

_Mr. Potter did not enter his name, nor ask to be entered, into the tournament.  There is speculation it is a murder attempt by proxy by former Death Eaters still at large, but this is UNCONFIRMED_

_Miss Granger entered the arena of her own volition, with no prior planning on the part of Mr. Potter.  Mr. Potter, in fact, stated while he is grateful, he wished she had stayed safe in the audience._

_The DMLE has verified that no spells, compulsions, or potions are influencing Mr. Potter. This puts paid to supposition reported about Miss Granger manipulating Mr. Potter into a relationship._

_Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall reported that while there were several incidents involving the couple, they never started any of them and used appropriate force in defending themselves and diffusing the situation.  No specifics were given due to Hogwarts privacy standards, but she presented the statements of two additional instructors who praise the couples calm and measured responses to attacks upon their persons._

_Once again, the Prophet vows to do it’s best to ensure fast, accurate reporting of the facts as they happen, and hopes you, the readers, understand that we are human too, and mistakes do happen._

 


	19. Settling in

 

The return of the couple to Hogwarts Sunday at dinner was a warmer affair than either expected.  They had flooed straight to the infirmary, bypassing the possibility of being seen returning.  From there Professor McGonagall escorted them to the Great Hall for dinner.

“Harry!” the pair looked up at the excited call, and were unsurprised at seeing most of Gryffindor, most of the school in fact, staring at them.

“What?” Harry asked, grinning, “You look like I don’t eat here every day.”

“Uh, Harry,” Neville replied as they took seats near him, “not sure if you noticed but you two have been quarantined in the Hospital wing since Friday.”

“Nope, never noticed,” Hermione teased, “We’re fine by the way.”

“”I was getting there,” Neville sulked.

“We know Nev,” Harry said, clapping him on the back, “We’re just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“Hey Hermione,” one of the twins called, sliding in beside Neville.

“”Mistress of obscure charms,” the other joined in, sliding on Neville’s other side.

“Queen of the cruel pranks,”

“And overall bad ass.”

“Definite bad ass,”

“What do you want?” Hermione cut the twins off before they could get going.

“You wound us,”

“Yeah, what makes you think we want something?”

“You’re being nice,” Harry answered with a grin.

“He’s got a point dear brother,”

“True brother mine.”

“Teach us how to do what you did to Mclaggen?”

“What?” Hermione was shocked at the request.

“Well, we weren’t able to remove the spells yesterday,” one of the twins answered looking sheepish.

“Yeah, we even asked Flitwick for help.”

“But it took both of us and Flitwick to remove it.”

“So how’d you make it so strong?” inquired the right one, “The silencing and tickling charms were bad enough, but the sticking charm?”

“Most sticking charms last a couple of hours unless you make it a permanent sticking charm,” the other finished.

“I...” Hermione looked at Harry in confusion, “I don’t know, it was just a normal sticking charm.”

“That was some sticking charm then Hermione,” complimented Neville, “So what did Madam Pomfrey say?  We tried to come see you but she said you were under quarantine.”

“Given the… unusual way we were healed,” Hermione explained, reciting the story they’d rehearsed, “Madam Pomfrey didn’t want anyone else exposed if something was wrong.”

“How were you healed?” Fred asked, leaning in.

“Later,” Harry responded, watching as everyone seemed to hang on every word.

“ ‘Arry,” a sensuous voice called from behind them, “I’m zo glad you are okay.  You as well ‘Ermione.”

“Thanks Fleur,” Hermione replied, “Glad you and the other Champions are ok too.”

“Endeed, ve are all happy to ‘ave survived.”

“Add us to that list,” quipped Harry.

“Ve already did,” she grinned, then sombered and leaned closer, “Ve realize you are still recovering, but ve would like to speak to you, both of you.  Maybe one evening later zees week?”

“All of you, the three champions?” Harry asked, watching as Hermione went into her analyzing mode.  It wasn’t noticeable to most, but he could tell.  The set of her jaw, the purse of her lips… Harry shook his head to prevent his thoughts from going further down his happy thoughts of his girlfriend… no, his wife.

“Yes,” Fleur responded, oblivious to the thoughts going through the teen’s minds, “We wish to discuss several things,” she looked at Hermione, “With both of you.”

“Give us some time to settle in,” Hermione said, “How about Wednesday night?  After dinner?”

“We shall see you then,” Fleur smiled, and walked away.  The pair turned back to their friends and couldn’t help but laugh.  Both twins seemed in a trance while poor Neville was redder than a strawberry and drooling.  Reaching over, Harry gently shook them back to awareness.

“You might want to pick your jaws off the floor if you want to chew,” Harry said simply, causing Hermione to laugh even harder.

 

_______________________

 

The common room was packed when they returned, it seemed like every Gryffindor was present.  Angling to the side of the room, Hermione pulled Neville over to her.

“What’s going on?”

“House meeting, McGonagall has some big announcement,” Neville explained, “Everyone has been trying to figure it out since she announced it Saturday morning.”

Harry looked at Hermione, the unspoken question plain on his face.  Her minimal nod in return had him groaning.  Both suspected the same thing, this was about them.

“I see you finally stopped hiding,” an officious voice called from the crowd.  It was instantly apparent who had spoken, even without the cringe worthy voice.  The sudden clearing around Cormac Mclaggen told the pair exactly who had spoken.

“Leave it Cormac,” Harry warned, “this won’t end well.”

“I know you’re scared Potter, but that’s no reason to be a coward.”

The room dropped to silence, everyone waiting for the response.  Hermione smirked a bit, but almost everyone missed it as they waited for Harry to crush him.  The response they got, was one no one expected.  Harry laughed.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” he chuckled, “Hermione beat you in under a second.  You didn’t even get your wand out.  If you did so poorly against someone you told the papers was cheating, how do you think you’ll do against me?”  He saw the startled expression on Cormac’s face at that barb, “Yes, we know it was you who told Rita Skeeter that Hermione was cheating.”

“You can’t prove anything!  You’re nothing but a squib!  You have no right to be here.”

“I have as much right as anyone,” Harry sighed, “Everyone who has magic deserves to know how to use it, to control it.  It is a _gift_ , not a right.”

“Yes, a gift to those who deserve it, which does not include you!” Cormac snarled, bringing his wand up.

“ENOUGH!” McGonagall’s cry froze the Gryffindor’s in their place, but everyone noted that Harry was already pointing his wand at the arrogant 5th year while Cormac was still raising his.  

“This is an outrage.  Fighting amongst yourselves, drawing wands.  50 points Mr. Mclaggen, and a weeks’ detention.”

“Me?  It’s Potter’s fault!” the sandy haired teen cried in outrage.

“Really?” McGonagall asked coldly, “How is it his fault you called him a squib?  That you challenged his girlfriend and she beat you?  That you verbally assaulted him and drew your wand?  Tell me how that is his fault.”

“He provoked me,” Cormac accused, “He shouldn’t even be here.”

“Oh?” McGonagall’s curious tone did not match the hard look on her face, “Why is that?”

“Because he’s practically a squib, he doesn’t deserve magic,” Cormac screamed, nearly frothing at the mouth in anger, “His mother was a mudblood whore who shouldn’t have been allowed to live much less have magic.  He’s spawned from an unclean pestilence that should have been drowned at birth.  But I'll correct that!” as he spoke, Cormac’s wand started to rise again.  Everyone, Harry included, was so shocked at the venom in his voice that they were delayed in reacting.  Harry saw the orange light of Cormacs spell shoot towards him, _towards_ him but not _at_ him, he realized.  It was headed just to his right, towards Hermione.  

Everyone watched in horror as the spell leaped across the space between the two wizards, watched as Harry's hand jumped out with seeker reflexes and caught the spell inches from Hermione’s face.  Watched as Harry screamed as every bone from his shoulder down shattered under the curse.  Watched the pair fall together, Harry collapsing into Hermione’s arms as the pain forced him to fight off falling unconscious.  Then they turned on Cormac.  

“Stop,” Hermione commanded, crying over Harry as the first stunners knocked their assailant out, “His eyes, he’s not himself.” 

This caused enough pause for the twins and McGonagall to get to the teen.  A wave of McGonagall’s wand showed a sickly yellow glow about his head.  Another flick and the teen was bound as well as stunned.  Moving over to Harry, she cast a quick charm to keep him from moving his demolished arm and a mild painkiller.  Harry’s twitch soothed once that was done.

“Messrs Weasley, bring McLaggen, Hermione, bring Potter,” the Scotswoman’s voice hitched slightly, “The rest of you, to bed.  We shall have our meeting tomorrow night instead.”

 

_________________

 

“Miss me al…” Madam Pomfrey's teasing tone trailed off as she saw the procession entering the hospital wing.   Hermione was leading an obviously wounded Harry to ‘his’ bed. _I really do need to just get a plaque with his name on it_ she thought as she watched Mcgonagall lead the Weasley twins, levitating Cormac Mclaggen, over to another.

“There was another altercation Poppy,” Minerva explained, “Mclaggen fired a curse at Hermione but Harry caught it instead.  I think it was an overpowered bone shattering curse.  The others subdued Mclaggen but Hermione stopped them doing damage, said something about his eyes and that he wasn’t himself.  I confirmed he’d under a powerful compulsion, possibly the Imperious.”

“Oh my word,” Pomfrey cried, moving over to Harry, “Let’s have a look at you Mr. Potter.”

The mediwitch waved her wand over him, then paled as she assessed the damage.  Bustling over to the cabinet, she withdrew several vials, then paused.  She glanced over her shoulder at the couple, then sagged.  Returning the vials, she withdrew a large bottle with a skull on the top.

“No, not that!” Harry groaned, recognising the bottle from second year.  Skele-Gro.

“I’m afraid so Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey sighed, “Unfortunately there’s just too much damage.  And while I can’t believe I'm saying this, thank you for being the one sitting here.  Had that curse connected with Miss Granger, things would have been rather grim.”

Harry nodded sadly as Hermione curled herself into his good side.  He knew she was not exaggerating, for if the curse had done this to his arm, he didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Hermione.

“Now, since you are familiar with this particular brew, and I have other patients, I’m going to discharge you in your wife’s tender care,” the matron explained, “I shall vanish the bones, you two will return to your quarters, where you will take a full glass and try to sleep.  I’ll excuse both of you from class tomorrow.”

“Wife?” the shocked question came from behind Madam Pomfrey, in stereo.

“Oh bugger,” Pomfrey started, turning.  Sure enough, the twins had moved over to check on their friend and had overheard the statement.

“Boys,” Hermione said softly, but firmly.  “That is very much a burn before reading secret.  _No one can know_ ,” the last sentence, while still soft, was delivered in a tone that froze the twin’s blood.  They had been threatened before, usually several times a day from their mother, and they held a mastery in ignoring intimidating threats, but never before had they feared for their very existence as they did now.  Before them stood a witch who would not only make them disappear, but suffer for a very long time before killing them without any evidence she was involved.  This was reinforced by the power radiating off of her like static electricity, her hair flowing behind her from the charge. The power coming off her and the glow of power in her eyes made the twins nearly wet themselves. 

“Sure Hermione, anything you say.”

“Yeah, mum’s the word,” the frightened twin said quickly.

“Good,” Hermione said with finality, calming visibly, “Now I suspect Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall have a lot of work to do with Mclaggen, so would you two care to help us back to the Common room?”

“Tell the lion between the stairs I said ‘Tis a brea day’” McGonagall said from Cormac’s bedside.  “He’ll let you into your new quarters.  Stay there and I’ll send food up at meals tomorrow.  If you need anything call for Tippy, she’ll help you with whatever you need until I come for you tomorrow.”

“Yes professor,” Hermione replied, watching as Pomfrey vanished Harry’s shattered bones.

“Don’t worry Hermione, We’ll tell Neville to take really good notes for you,” the twin on the right said.

“And we’ll tell them you’re both here?” the other asked, looking at McGonagall.

“No, you don’t know where they are, you took them here and left,” the transfiguration mistress supplied, “I’ll address their new arrangement tomorrow night.”

“Okay professor,” said one twin, helping Harry out of the bed while the other offered his arm to Hermione.  She looked at him like he’d grown a second head, then moved over to hold Harry’s hand as they walked towards the door.

 

____________________________________________

 

It was a long night for the couple.  Regrowing bones, as Harry had experienced before, was truly painful.  Hermione did what she could, but it wasn’t much.  They lay in their bed most of the night, and slept brokenly.  One benefit, such as it was, they discovered is when they were touching, Hermione pulled a small bit of the pain to her, sharing it.  Harry tried to get her to stop doing it, to block it if she could but she simply pointed out that if it were her, he’d be trying to take as much as he could, and curled into his side.

Breakfast was waiting for them after each had taken a shower and gotten dressed for the day.  Once they’d eaten, they decided to catch up on their homework.  That lasted until just before lunch.  They ate early and started to experiment a little.  They found that they had to concentrate on the spells a bit more than before.  Not because of a lack of ability, but because they had to learn to throttle the power they applied.  The first time Harry had tried to levitate a feather, it had ended up stuck into the ceiling.  They also found out that the more powerful spells seemed easier.  They scared McGonagall after dinner when she entered to get them and was met by a pair of corporeal Patroni.

Harry had cast his Patronus, whom they’d previously named Prongs, as a test.  Unfortunately, Prongs was no longer a stag, but a large cat.  Hermione decided to learn from him and just before McGonagall had entered, had successfully cast hers.

“My word,” The transfiguration mistress cried as she entered.  Before her were a pair of wild cats, panthers, cavorting around the room.  At her cry, they turned to her and danced to her, letting the positive feelings that conjured them wash over her.  “Most impressive, both of you.”

“Thank you professor,” Hermione greeted her, “We do have a question about them though.”

“What would that be Mrs. Potter?” she grinned as the patroni faded, “Merely casting a patronus as fourth years wasn’t enough?”

“Well, Harry cast his last year,” Hermione blushed, “But it was a stag, now it’s a panther.  Why would it change?”

“I see,” She paused, “Professor Flitwick could give a more complete answer, however, major life changes can cause a patronus to change.  In this case, I would expect your bond and marriage caused this difference.  One thing to note for your other project:  almost all, as far as I'm aware, patroni mirror an animagi’s animal shape,” her wand came out and as she cast her patronus, a tabby cat burst forth, rubbing against the pair.

“That’ll help,” Harry said in wonder, “Knowing who we’ll be is a lot easier.”

“Bear in mind Mr. Potter, it is not absolute,” Minerva warned, “But yes, it will help.  Now come, time to speak to your housemates.”

As they left their quarters, they found the common room had been expanded to accommodate the whole house.  Following McGonagall to the front, she began by addressing them.

“Mr. Potter, Hermione,” She began, “You have faced untold prejudice and discrimination this year, from both within and without.  Is there anyone in this room you still trust?”

“Well,” Hermione began, glancing at Harry, “only 3 for sure, a few more have actually apologized and attempted to make amends for their initial reactions.”

“Who?” McGonagall asked.

“Neville, Fred, and George,” Harry stated, “Katie, Alicia, Angelina, Lee, and Faye have apologized and asked to be allowed the chance to make it up.”

“Very well, the eight that were identified, step forward,” McGonagall conjured chairs to the side and the eight students sat. “Now, I'm sure the rest of you noticed that I retrieved these two from a room no one knew about before.  That is for a simple reason: It’s not safe for them in the dorms,” She let the murmurs die down before continuing. “I’m sure those that weren’t present have been informed as to the events of last night.  Mr. Mclaggen was found to be under a rather powerful compulsion, but the fact remains that had Mr. Potter not intercepted the curse and taken it upon himself, we would likely have one less student today,”  

The stunned silence built, then broke as Neville spoke up from the side, “Do we know who placed him under the spell?”

“No, and given the events of the past months, I cannot, to my shame, discount someone inside this very tower,” McGonagall sighed, “I’ve never been so ashamed to call myself a lion.”

The pause drew on, she waited until people started shuffling before continuing.  “Because of this threat, and due to his status as a champion, I have placed Mr. Potter in private quarters.  At his insistence, I have also placed Hermione there as well.  Per the rules and their joint request, her room has the same enchantments as the girls’ stairway, but instead of stairs turning into a slide, her door will slam shut and reinforce itself.  They may invite people into their joint common room but only explicitly and in company with one of them.  They are still part of Gryffindor, but because of the betrayal of the rest of you, they must live apart.”  

McGonagall paused, taking a deep breath and calming the fire she wished she could unleash on rest of the tower, “Every year I tell the first years that their house is like their family.  Well, I believe some in this family wish they could request a divorce.

“Now, there is one other piece of house business to complete,” Minerva took out her wand, a quick flick, and 6 rips were heard as 6 silver badges shot out of the crowd.  Horrified cries arose from their previous owners but no one spoke out as everyone feared McGonagall at that moment, “All previous Prefects are fired, this is exactly what you’re supposed to prevent.  You failed miserably,” She turned to the side where the others were sitting.  “Mr. Jordan, Messrs Weasley.  I can’t believe I'm doing this but here,” she held out three of the badges.  “God help me,” she murmured as Fred and George picked up badges. 

 “Ladies, I know you’ll do well,” And she handed the three chasers the other three badges.

“Now I know they aren’t two per year, but frankly they’re the only ones I trust to actually do the jobs.  Think about that, I trust the _twins_ to enforce the rules and equality more than I do any of you.  What does that say about you?” she turned to the terrible twosome, “Sorry boys.  Next year, Angelina shall graduate, and the rest will be seventh years.  Whether there shall be sixth year prefects next year depends on the actions taken by the current fifth years for the rest of the year.  However, I doubt it.  I have four very good candidates from the current fourth years, so between the returning students and them, I’m not sure I’ll need them,” McGonagall swept her icy gaze over the rest of the room, “Now off to bed, all of you.”

 


	20. Yule

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, real life and my muse haven’t been cooperating.  Hopefully after the New Year the publishing will even out again.**

**Thanks once more to Kaystar742 and Karasunova for keeping my ramblings coherent.**

**20 Yule**

 

The changes in Gryffindor tower over the next few weeks was not nearly as drastic as anyone had hoped, but still better.  Harry and Hermione settled easily into their new quarters, the attacks had been severely curtailed, and several people had tried to apologize.  Most notably the former 5th year prefects.  The pair weren’t particularly forgiving, all things considered, but the ones that understood and agreed it would take time to show their change of heart were at least allowed to try.  They agreed however that the former prefects had a much longer road to forgiveness.

The other champions met them Wednesday, as planned.  They expressed amazement at the first task and all agreed that working together was the best way to survive the Tournament.  Everyone agreed to share any information they could gather, and to help each other train.  They decided to meet once or twice a week, to train and to just talk.  It seemed that being a champion had elevated them to a point where even normal conversation was hard with their schoolmates.  Victor commented that it was even worse than when it was announced that he was to play seeker for the national team.  He also mentioned he had a small wish Hermione was single as she was one of the few people not interested in his fame.

The first week of December saw a new revelation, the announcement of the Yule Ball.  It was during their Transfiguration class that it was announced.  Once McGonagall had finished warning everyone that they were expected to be on their best behavior, for they were representing the school, Harry acted.  Pulling out a spare quill, he concentrated hard, focusing hard as he transfigured it into a single red rose.  He then turned to Hermione and presented it to her.

“Hermione,” he projected without yelling, “would you be my date to the ball?”

“I would love to go to the ball with you Harry.” Hermione smiled as she accepted the rose.

“Of course you would, you’re dating him, which is good since no one else would take you,” Ron murmured low enough that McGonagall didn’t hear it.

“I would never presume Ron,” Harry declared, turning to the redhead, “Hermione is her own woman and you never know, someone might ask her before I could and maybe she’d accept.  I would never assume she would be my date, hence why I asked.”

“Who’d ask her?” Ron battled back, “No one, that’s who.”

“Well, that may be true of you, however I know of at least one other that would have asked her, though he knows we’re dating and would not do that in this instance.” Harry replied evenly, “Maybe you’ve heard of him?  Victor Krum?”

“This is not a conversation for class, gentleman.” McGonagall cut in, hiding her grin at the rebuff that had just been delivered, “You may finish it after class, or in detention, your choice.”

“Sorry professor,” Harry told the teacher, “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t Mr. Potter,” she scolded, “And see me after class. You as well Hermione.”

As their classmates left after finishing the assignment, Harry and Hermione held back.  As they had finished early in the period, they were engaged in a quiet discussion of the aspects of human transfiguration for their other project.  They were so engrossed, that they failed to realize the bell had rung and they were alone with Professor McGonagall.

“I believe that you are on the right track Mr. Potter,” McGonagall interrupted them, “However, we can discuss that more on Saturday when we meet.  For now, may I have your attention?”

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione answered for them. “What did you need to see us about?”

“While I had intended to merely inform Mr. Potter of this,” She began, “However, as he has made such a grand gesture, I shall inform you both.  As Champion, you and your date are expected to open the ball and dance the first dance.”

“You mean to say,” Harry gulped, “We’ll have to dance in front of the whole school, alone?”

“Well, the other three champions and their dates will be there as well, but yes Mr. Potter.”

“I’m sorry Hermione,” Harry looked at her in a panic, “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“It’s ok Harry,” Hermione reassured him, “It’s one dance, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Hermione, I don't know how to dance,” Harry admitted, “I figured I could learn some, and you’d accept that, but if it’s in front of everybody…”

“Oh,” Hermione paused, “You’re right, it’s more important to me to be there with you, but we’ll figure something out Harry.  We can learn the dance together and show everyone what they’re missing.”

“Wonderful idea Miss, sorry, Mrs. Potter.” McGonagall cut in, “I’ll help as well, Saturday, 6pm, this classroom.  There will be general dance lessons offered as well, but I shall set aside several times over the next weeks to work with you expressly on the Wizarding waltz, which is the dance you’ll be expected to dance for the first dance.”

“Thank you professor,” Harry thanked her, “I really appreciate you taking the time to help.”

“Of course Mr. Potter,” McGonagall replied, “Which brings up on more issue I wish to discuss with you.  Hermione; by tradition, I should be addressing you as Mrs. Potter.  If you’ve noticed I haven’t referred to you as such, nor as Miss... Granger, as I have forgotten to discuss this with you.  I realize that calling you Mrs. Potter will give your situation away, but I need your permission to continue calling you by Miss... Granger.”

“Why?  You know we wish to keep this a secret,” Harry asked, “You actually looked pained saying Miss Granger.”

“It’s part of Magic Mr. Potter,” the Scotswoman explained, “The magical society has been so patriarchal for so long, to knowingly refer to a witch by other than her proper name is… is difficult.   I know you two are married, so I'm influenced by magic to refer to you properly.  Most people don’t notice it, but depending on your position in society and the individual's position, it gets stronger.  As a very old family, the Potters are very deeply imbued in magic, so harder to refer to improperly.  I’m an Educator, have been for many, many years, and that effects the magic too.”

“So basically what you’re saying is because Harry is from such an old family and you’re an educator, you find it difficult to refer to me, his wife, as anything other than Mrs. Potter?” Hermione asked, “That’s why you’ve been using my first name so much in public, since it’s not an incorrect name, it’s easier for you to use?”

“Precisely.”

“I see,” Hermione paused, “In that case Professor McGonagall, I formally request you call me Miss Granger in public until such time as my marriage becomes common knowledge.”

 “Thank you Miss Granger,” Minerva sighed, “That is much better.  Now hurry on, before you’re late for your next class and I'll see you this weekend.”

 

_______________________

 

Wednesday brought the weekly Champions meeting, hosted in an unused classroom on the third floor.  Over the last two weeks, all four champions and Hermione had taken moments out of their days to add touches to the room.  It had been cleaned, old desks stacked out of the way, and a couple of comfy chairs and couches added.

“Zo,” Fleur began, “does anyone else have a clue on ze egg?”

“Else?” Cedric asked, “You’re saying you know?”

“I do,” she confirmed sadly, “But I'm curious eef anyone else does too.”

“I might,” Hermione said softly, “It’s obviously a message, but the scream is hard to translate.  I was wondering if it needs to be muffled or something.  Or maybe it’s just a sirens screech.”

“Close,” Fleur said softly, “It is a Mermaids call.”

“Mermaid?” Cedric cut in, “But aren’t they supposed to have beautiful voices?”

“Zey do,” Fleur confirmed, “But only underwater.  Ze Egg is their voice above water.”

“Zo ve haf to listen under de vater?” Victor asked, “Den we can hear de clue?”

“Oui,” Fleur confirmed.

“Fleur, how do you know this?” Cedric asked, “And why do you look so terrified?”

Harry looked at the French Champion, she did indeed look afraid.  Her normal glow was muted, her skin pale and dull.  It was almost as if she were trying to become a ghost without dying.

“Ze merfolk and ze veela are ancient enemies,” Fleur explained, she held out her hand and a purple flame came to life in her palm.  “Ze Veela are creatures of fire, we control ze passionfire.  Ze merfolk are people of the water, our opposite.  Ze two are always at odds.”

“How bad would it be for you to enter their waters?” Harry asked, “I think I remember something about some treaty the merfolk had with their enemies.  The veela?”

“Zere is an ancient treaty,” Fleur confirmed, “If one of us were to enter the ozzers territory, eet would be war.”

A great splash sounded behind them, along with a gasp.  Turning quickly they found Hermione had conjured a large tank, placed an egg inside, and had been listening to it.  They could see the golden glow from the inside of the egg through the glass.  A muffle talking could be heard, probably the message repeating itself.

“I’ve got it!” Hermione explained, then recited:

 

_Come seek us where our voices sound_

_You shall not find us above the ground_

_An hour to find the life at stake_

_And travel this trip you must take_

_Face the hurdles upon this track_

_But when the hours done, it won’t come back_

 

Hermione looked around at the distraught faces, confused.  Every one of them looked crushed, and turned to look at Fleur.

“Mon Dieu,” Fleur exclaimed.

After explaining the issue between Fleur and the merfolk, they sat trying to figure out what to do.  She confirmed what Fleur had said, though pointed out that no one knew if that treaty was still valid.  It had occurred 1500 years ago after all.

“So three problems,” Cedric summarized, “First, if Fleur enters the Merfolk territory, she starts a war.  Second, we all need to be able to last an hour under water in order to rescue, we guess, a hostage.  And third, the hostages themselves.  They’ll likely be unwilling, and unknowing of the danger they’re in.”

“Plus even if Fleur does compete, she’ll be seriously disadvantaged underwater.” Hermione pointed out, “A fire creature underwater would be fighting just to maintain themselves.”

“Oui,” Fleur confirmed, “I’m ok at a beach, but even if I'm in the surf I feel the water affecting me.”

“Sounds like we have some homework,” Hermione declared, “Find a way to last for an hour underwater.  Then figure out how to help Fleur.”

“Agreed,” Harry said, “No matter what, we work together on this and no hostage gets left behind.”

They all agreed.

“Now since next week is the end of term exams, then we’re on winter break after the Yule ball,” Harry continued, “This means the next time we’ll meet is the first week back in January.  That should give us plenty of time to brainstorm.”

“About zat,” Victor interjected, “I vas wondering eff I may ask a favour.”

“What do you need?” Cedric inquired.

“Vell, zer are many, as you call them, fangirls here at Hogwarts,” he started, then turned to the couple, “I vould prefer not to take von of dem.  I was hoping I could convince you to allow me to escort Hermeon to ze dance.” He saw the look build in Harry’s eyes, and quickly continued, “I haff no desire to court her, or take her from you, it is just because she is the only girl I know who is not a fan.”

“I see,” Harry calmed slightly as Hermione placed a placating hand on his shoulder, “I understand, however I have already asked Hermione rather publicly, so you showing up with her would be, no offense, very bad.”

“Of course, I only vished to not have a fangirl on my arm,” Victor said quickly.

“I too have need of a decent date,” Fleur cut in, “I have had many offers, ze redheaded clown was most amusing to watch try to speak with me.  I vould suggest helping each ozzer out, but that vould not vork.”

“At least Ron tried to ask you,” Harry quipped, “His sister simply gave me a color swatch and told me it was her dress color and get my accents to match.”

“She learned her lesson though,” Hermione grinned, “The tears in her precious dress could’ve been on her… more’s the pity.”

“I’ve already asked Cho,” Cedric informed them, steering the conversation back on track.  “Or I could have worked something out with her to help you two.”

“I have an idea,” Hermione said softly, “but it’ll be tricky.  I know who I would choose for you Fleur, he’s a good guy, one of the few we trust anymore.  I think he’s intending to ask someone soon, but if I'm right, it can still work.”

“You thinking of Neville?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I think he’s going to ask Susan, but if they agree, she can go with Victor.”

“Dear, Susan is going with Hannah.” Harry informed her, “He asked her last night and she told him she had already agreed to go with her.”

“With Hannah?” Hermione floundered for a second, “But… oh…. OH, ok, that’s out then.”

“Maybe not entirely,” Cedric said, “I was there when he asked her, and it was pretty much as you said.  The whole of Hufflepuff knew about those two but I don’t think anyone else did.  Anyway, he said he understood and that maybe he’d try… not loony... Lunar?”

“Luna?” Harry tried.

“That’s it.  I’m not that familiar with the younger classes but would she be acceptable?”

“Luna… well, I’d say she's just Luna, but that’s not helpful.”  Hermione grinned, then turned to Victor, “She’s third year, and more than a bit odd, but loyal to a fault.  If we arrange this properly, you will dance a couple times with her and for the rest of the night she’s Neville’s, is this acceptable?”

“Da, I understand.” Victor confirmed, “I can alvays dance with Fleur, or you.”

“Fleur, same with Neville,” Hermione turned to Fleur while blushing, “Neville is a sweet boy, lacks confidence until it shows like a lion; and he’s our friend.”

“I understand,” Fleur agreed, “‘e eez ze sweet one oo blushes like a strawberry vhen I say ‘allo isn’t ‘e?”

“That’s him,” Harry confirmed, “But at least he can still speak.”

“True,” Fleur admitted, “And ‘e eez cute, but not az cute az you.”

“Ok, sounds like we have a plan,” Hermione saved Harry from blushing too much, “Harry, find Neville, I’ll find Luna.  Fleur and Viktor, meet us in the antechamber off the entry hall before dinner and we’ll discuss it with them.”

 

__________________

 

“Ok Harry, what’s this all about?” Neville demanded as they waited for everyone else in the antechamber.

“Well, let me ask you this,” Harry inquired, “I understand you got turned down by Susan, sorry about that.  I also understand that you intend to ask Luna Lovegood.  So, assuming both said yes, who would you rather go with; Luna Lovegood or Fleur Delacour?”

“Fleur?  I….” Neville paused, then considered, “Assuming they both said yes, Luna.  Fleur is nice enough, but it would likely be just for the dance.  With Luna, I kinda hope there may be more there.”

“Zat is good,” Fleur told him as she entered with Victor, “It eez good you are thinking beyond the night.”

“H-H-Hi,” Neville stammered.  “W-What are you d-d-doing here?”

“She’s here, because she needs our help,” Hermione answered, entering with Luna, who appeared to be studying the ceiling.  “Now, Neville, not to put you on the spot, but isn’t there something you wanted to ask Luna?”

“I… what?”

“She’s encouraging you to ask me to the ball Neville,” Luna’s dreamy voice told him, “They want to show me you really want to do it before they ask us to help.”

“Help with what?” Neville asked frustrated, “What is going on here?”

“It’s ok mate,” Harry reassured him, “Here’s the deal.  We know you intend to ask Luna to the Ball, which I think is a great idea.  The issue however, is both Viktor and Fleur need dates that aren’t either fangirls or drooling idiots.  Since both myself and Cedric have already gotten dates in a rather public way, we aren’t available.  That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Neville inquired, “But I'm nobody.”

“No, you’re someone who stood by both me and Hermione when everyone else turned their backs, and who doesn’t turn into a drooling idiot.  Who else do I know that could approach a date with Fleur and still be coherent?  Ron tried to ask her and could barely shout “You, Me, Ball” to her before running off.  The idea is for you to escort Fleur and Luna to be escorted by Victor.  They’ll open the ball with you two, and maybe a couple other dances, but for the most part, you’ll be with Luna.  This helps them out, they don’t have idiots for dates.  This helps you two out because it’s a public statement that you two are the best Hogwarts has to offer in their eyes.  And you two get to spend the evening together, at the head table and showing everyone that you are worthy.”

“So let me get this straight,” Neville asked, “Instead of the girl I want to take, you want me to take one of the most beautiful girls at school, then let the girl _I_ want to take, be taken by an international quidditch star.  To top it off, you want us to snub them both, publically, and have me steal Luna back?”

“Ooooh, I like that plan,” Luna cooed, “Can we do that plan?  I suggest rescue by blimp.”

“I’m not sure I'd say snub,” Hermione temporized, ignoring Luna’s addition, “but essentially yes.  And Luna?  No blimps.”

“Oh poo” Luna pouted

“Luna?” Neville asked, ‘What do you think, do you really like this idea?”

“I like it, even if there’s no blimp,” Luna agreed, “but I expect pudding.”

“You know what,” Neville grinned, “I think I like it too.”

 

______________________

 

“WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH!”  Harry’s yells of pain ripped through their suite as he felt like his skin was melting off.  

Hermione had felt the now expected and much muted effects of the moons rise fifteen minutes ago.  December was her easiest change yet. Harry had done his normal bit of pulling her discomfort to him… or he’d tried at least.  Shortly after the moon had fully risen, Harry had felt his own pain explode.  Hermione had immediately tried to comfort him, but as soon as she saw the hair start to grow, she knew she needed help.  

Activating the emergency rune Madam Pomfrey had installed in case of something dire happening, she’d simply had to wait and try and comfort her husband, who was writhing in agony.  

It would be fascinating to watch, her mind noted, if it wasn’t Harry in pain.  Watching the hair grow over his entire body was bad enough.  The ears and the tail were cute too.  But the real hard part, was watching the physical size change he went through.  When she changed, she stayed relatively the same size; as Harry changed, he grew over a foot.  His chest swelled to rival a bodybuilders, and his legs were thick as tree trunks.  If it wasn’t so painful for him she’d probably be drooling.  He had also joined her in growing a muzzle and stubby, almost paw like hands.  His muzzle was a bit more prominent than hers, more squared and protruding about 3 or 4 inches from his face.  His new cat ears were smaller than hers, and more rounded like a lion’s, where hers were pointed like a housecats.

“What in the…” Madam Pomfrey’s voice trailed off as she finally made it to the couple’s suite.

“I think our bond shared the change with him, but it’s worse,” Hermione told the mediwitch, “He seems to be calming down, I think the shift is almost over, but I don’t know what to do to help.”

“Have you tried physical touch?” she asked, waving her wand over the panting Harry.

“Physical contact during the change is extremely painful,” Hermione pointed out.

“Normally yes, but for you two?”

“Oh,” Hermione said startled, “Are you thinking the bond might help?”

“It’s worth a try.”

“I hope this works,” Hermione muttered, looking down into Harry’s pain wracked eyes, “If it doesn’t I’m sorry ok?”  And she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Harry immediately stopped thrashing.  His breath steadied and he managed to close his eyes and let his muscles relax.  Seeing this change, Hermione immediately sobbed and crawled next to him on the bed, wrapping him in her arms.

“I’m sorry Harry, I thought it would hurt you more.”

“It’s...Okay…” Harry gasped, “I… did...too.”

“Well Mr. Potter, there is some good news for you,” Pomfrey said with just a hint of mirth, “We already have some idea what to expect, based on Miss, sorry, Mrs. Potter’s experiences.”

“I’m not so sure,” Hermione said skeptically, “I didn’t grow a foot or become a world class bodybuilder… not that I'm complaining.”

“You’re going to make me start working out after this aren’t you?” Harry groaned.

“No, while it is pretty, I love you for you, not your body.”

“As I was saying,” Pomfrey cut them off, “It seems that you’ll be joining your lovely wife on her monthly changes.  From what we are able to guess, this will be the most difficult, though the physical stature changes will likely still make your changes harder than your wife’s.  You seem to be almost completed in your change, any complaints?”

“Other than it hurts like hell?” Harry quipped, “The pain is very manageable now, and seems to be easing.  Not much you can do now is there?”

“No Mr. Potter, there really isn’t,” the healer admitted, “Ironically, the best medicine is that which only your wife can provide.”

“Wonder if I’ll keep the ears and tail too.”


	21. The Yule Ball

**21 The Yule Ball**

 

Harry woke slowly on Christmas morning, sunlight brightening their room.  Their room. It had been just the week before when Hermione had first said that, much to his surprise.  He had looked over at her when she said it, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I guess it really is, isn’t it?” he’d asked, then smiled, “I like that”.

A quiet murmur brought him back, Hermione was fighting waking up again.  Ever since they had started sleeping together, they noticed that, while Harry seemed to wake much earlier than he used to, Hermione seemed to never want to get up.  At least she didn’t if he was still in bed. If he was already up she would grumble about being cold, go find him, and hug him from behind ‘to steal the warm back’.

“Morning beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, causing her to grin. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she mumbled back, turning over and facing him as he wrapped his arms around her.  She gave him a soft kiss on the lips before snuggling into his embrace. He reached up and started to idly scratch behind her ears.  After the last full moon, they found while her human ears had all but disappeared, her feline ears were quite functional. Turned out she really liked having them scratched and it could even cause her to purr occasionally. He was almost as bad with his.

It had taken a while to get used to sleeping together.  They had been tired enough at the Grangers’ that falling asleep was never an issue, but now that they were back in school, it was different.  The first few nights had been awkward, almost an exercise in futility as Harry tried to respect her and still cuddle. Hermione finally laughed one night and simply snuggled as close to him as she could before telling him this was how she wanted to sleep.  It took a few more nights, but eventually they found the best was was simply spooned together.

“Do you want to go to breakfast first?” He asked the bushy haired snuggle bug in his arms, “Or presents first?”

“Stay,” she pouted, trying to burrow deeper into his arms.

“All day?” he asked, amused.

“Yup,” she confirmed with a satisfied tone, “I’m staying here all day.”

“While I can't fault you for wanting that, we will need to eat at some point,” he informed her. “Plus we are expected at the ball tonight.”

“Do we have to?”

“I guess not,” he conceded. “However, you would be missing out on wearing that dress you love so much.”

“Hmmmmm, it  _ is  _ rather pretty,” she agreed thoughtfully, still muffled by his neck.

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry teased, “But I want to.  Plus it’ll be kind of awkward when Faye and Neville show up to get ready and we’re still in the same bed together.”

“Uuuuhg,” she groaned in frustration.  “Why did we agree to that again?”

“Because we did sort of set Neville up and Faye agreed to help you with your hair?”

“Oh yeah,” she sighed, “I guess breakfast it is.”

Once they were up, Harry graciously let Hermione have the first shower, while he used the small dinette/kitchen to fix a simple breakfast.  They had discovered the little alcove shortly after moving in, and while they still went to the great hall for most meals, occasionally they’d eat in, usually on a weekend for breakfast.  Today they just wanted to have as peaceful a time as they could, so until Neville and Faye showed up late in the afternoon, they were having a “in” day.

He set out toast and bacon as Hermione exited the bedroom, her hair still wrapped in a towel.  Harry’s breath hitched a second as he took in the simple natural feel of the scene. Him making breakfast, her sitting and picking up the Daily Prophet that Hedwig had brought earlier.  She looked amazing sitting there, in just a dressing gown and her hair in a towel. While it was very… average, it was also incredible. Harry hoped for years of scenes just like it, maybe with a couple more seats filled one day.

“Earth to Harry, come in Harry,” Hermione sung, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Huh?” he started. “Oh, sorry, drifted off there for a second.”

“I could tell, care to share?”

“Just thinking about how incredible a scene this is,” Harry told her, giving her a peck on the cheek as he placed a glass of milk in front of her, “And considering how it would be with a couple more seats filled.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired, still groggy.

“I mean if there were a bushy haired little girl or two,” he blushed. “Maybe even a dark haired little boy.”

“Oh Harry,” she sighed wistfully.

“I know, it’s sappy,” he waved her off, “But it’s Christmas, and Christmas is about family.  Even with everything working against us right now, it still makes me think about the future and the family we might someday have.”

“You just keep right on thinking about that,” she told him, “And some day we’ll make it come true.  I know things like that will take time Harry, but we’ll get through this, together.”

“I know,” he sighed, “It’s just odd how we’ve settled into this.. This.. this level of comfort so quickly.  I keep wondering how much is us and how much is the bond, but another part doesn’t want to know because I want it so bad.”

“I know Harry,” she agreed. “I want it too, but I also believe that we’d be this comfortable regardless.  It’s just a little sooner than we would expect otherwise.”

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed.

They ate in silence for a while, each reflecting on their situation.  It had taken a bit, and they both knew it was the bond helping, but they had reached a comfortable quality to living together.  Hermione had only hemmed and hawed for two or three days before just moving into Harry’s room. They eventually figured out a bathroom routine, including getting dressed, with very little friction.  Even how they acted around each other settled out. The forced intimacy of the shared quarters force them to have a rather frank discussion and while neither was really ready for a lot of physical intimacy, they both finally admitted that even before the bond solidified, they had started to think about a future together.

They opened presents next, each saving their gift for the other till last.  From the Weasleys, Harry received the standard Weasley jumper and some candy, and was put out when he saw Hermione did not.  Hermione got a book on household spells, which while nice and useful, rankled the teens for some reason. Hagrid sent Harry a moke skin pouch, and Hermione got an advanced copy of the latest edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, signed by Newt Scamander.  McGonagall and Pomfrey got Hermione a book on bonds, and sent Harry a very nice pair of dragon hide boots. Pomfrey included a note stating he also had a nice name plaque on an assigned bed in the Hospital wing now, but hoped she would not see him in it for some time. Hermione’s parents had sent Hermione a box set of Shakespearean plays, along with a picture of them and the Christmas tree with Hedwig perched on top.  Harry, they simply sent a sheaf of papers. Confused, Harry opened it and dropped them upon reading the top line.

Curious, Hermione leaned over and picked them up, seeing just the top line before wrapping Harry up in a monster Hermione-hug.  It had simply read ‘Application for Guardianship’ and had a red ‘approved’ stamp on it. It was quite some time before they finished unwrapping presents.

Once they finally parted, Harry gave Hermione her last present, the one from him.  Opening it, she found a small velvet covered box, like the one she received her bracelet in but smaller.  Opening it, she found a pair of white gold earrings. They were infinity signs, again like her bracelet, with a ruby and sapphire dangling below.  

“Oh my god Harry, they’re beautiful,” she cried. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course they are, though not as beautiful as you.” He grinned cheekily.  “I had them made the same time as the bracelet, they’re a set.”

“They’re perfect, they’ll go wonderfully with my dress tonight too,” Hermione exclaimed. “Now open yours.”

Carefully unwrapping his last gift, Harry found he too got a velvet case.  About three or four inches cubed, Harry opened it cautiously. Inside, lay an ornate pocket watch.  It’s golden frame was inlaid with silver, celtic knotwork traced it’s way throughout. Pulling it out gently, he saw HJP engraved on top, and turning it over, read the message etched on the back;   _ To the love of my life, together, for all time.  HJP.   _

“HJP?” he asked confused.

“Hermione Jean Potter,” Hermione explained.  “Professor McGonagall told me it was tradition in the wizarding world for a wizard to receive a watch on his seventeenth birthday, the day he comes of age.  Since you are technically of age due to the tournament, we decided you needed your watch.”

“I’m guessing she helped?”

“Yup, I designed it; she got it made since I couldn't leave the castle,” Hermione explained.  “Open it.”

Harry opened the watch, and tears started to form.  Inside was an ornate face, with elegant numbering, but that wasn’t the reason for his tears.  No, the reason was on the back of the cover, were 4 pictures. Well, one picture and spots for three more.  The first was a simple picture of the two of them, one of Colin’s, Harry noticed. The other three merely had the notes child 1, child 2, and child 3 in them.

It was a long time before they did anything other than hold each other.

 

___________________

 

“Why do girls take so long?” Neville inquired later.

“They think they need to do a lot to make themselves look even prettier than they already are,” Harry said sagely, “And while we may disagree, or think they’re beautiful without the extra work, they’ll never believe it.”

“Oh.”

“Plus it takes them hours just to do their hair.”

“Ok, that’s more believable.”

“And it’s true,” Faye commented from behind them.  

Having gotten ready half an hour ago, the boys had been waiting in the common room of the couples quarters while Faye and Hermione finished getting ready.  Harry had managed to wrap his tail and hide it while Neville was in the bathroom. Now the girl in question stood in the doorway to ‘Hermione’s room’, looking resplendent in a dark crimson dress.

“And here’s the part where we tell them just how beautiful their efforts have made them,” Harry stage whispered and grinned at Neville, then turned to Faye.  “M’Lady, your beauty is only exceeded by your mercy.”

“Meaning I don't get to smack you, clever,” Faye grinned back, “And thank you.  But you’re not here for me, you’re here for your girlfriend. Come on out Hermione.”

The doorway opened and Harry forgot to breathe.  The vision before him stole all thoughts from him.  Hermione stood in the doorway, her midnight blue dress cascading down her body.  It was a relatively simple dress; sleeveless, deep back, wide straps from her bust crossing below her throat and attaching on the sides opposite.  Her hair was half up, and braided into a crown that highlighted her ears and the rest falling down her back. And her ears… was that a hint of blue on them?

“I am speechless,” Harry informed her. “I cannot believe the vision of beauty before me is my girlfriend.”

Hermione just blushed as she stepped up to him.

“I wish I could find the words to tell you how beautiful you are tonight Hermione,” Harry whispered to her, then kissed her softly, “but I intend to spend the evening trying to show you.”

“Hey Neville, you taking notes?” Faye asked teasingly.

“Yup,” he confirmed, and waited for about two seconds before chuckling.  “Are you meeting your date in the great hall?”

“Yeah,” Faye said, grinning as Harry and Hermione were still in  their own little world. “Care to escort me down once these two wake up?”

“Of course,”

“Good, then you can tell me who this mystery date of yours is.”

“Nope,” Neville grinned, “you can find out when everyone else does.”

“Spoilsport.”

 

_______________

 

“Aren’t you heading in to meet your date?” Faye asked as she and Neville arrived at the entry hall and he had stopped instead of heading inside with everyone else.

“No, I'm meeting her out here,” Neville explained, blushing.

“Out here?  But only the champions…”  Faye trailed off. “No.”

“Neveel,” Fluer’s sweet silvery voice sang as she approached from the entrance, “I’m glad you made eet, You look very ‘andsome.”

Faye looked back and forth as the French champion kissed Neville on each cheek, and took his arm.  Fleur turned and moved towards her, her sleek silvery dress rippling as she walked. Neville, sweet, innocent, naive Neville, was escorting the  _ French champion _ .  Faye couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor,” Hermione suggested sweetly, “Someone is likely to trip over it.”

“You knew!” Faye accused. “You knew who Neville was taking and you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course we knew,” Harry confirmed with a grin. “We set them up.”

“Set them up?”  Faye asked suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“She means,” Fleur joined them, “Zat Neville and Luna agreed to help myself and Viktor.  No one we could take would respect us, zey’d eizzer be drooling idiots, or fangirls.”

“So we thought of Neville and Luna,” Hermione explained. “Neville takes Fleur, Viktor takes Luna.  Both now have ‘Dates’ that aren’t idiots or fangirls. And Neville and Luna still get to go together.”

“Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Delacour,” McGonagall came up to them, interrupting the conversation, “It is almost time to begin, this way please.”

She led the two couples over to the other champions, lining them up in preparation to enter the Great hall.  Cedric and Cho would lead, followed by Fleur and Neville. Viktor and Luna in her pale pink dress would follow, with Harry and Hermione last.  The couples had bare moments to say hello before being shuffled to enter the hall.

The giant doors opened, revealing a much changed Great Hall.  The house tables were gone, replaced by round tables set for eight to twelve people scattered throughout the hall.  The walls were decorated in reds and greens, with the banners of all three schools scattered throughout. Ice blue fairies flitted about, and a light false snow fell, giving the illusion of a winter wonderland.  

“Oi, is that Neville Longbottom?” Harry heard someone exclaim as they passed the gathered students, “With Fleur Delacour?”

“And that’s that loony Ravenclaw too!”

“What’s she doing with Krum?”

The four couples made their way down the middle of the hall, passing several ice sculptures as they did so, before reaching the dais upon which the head table sat.  It too had been changed to a round table, with seating for the headmasters and headmistress of the schools, the ministry representatives, the four champions, and their dates.  In the middle was a truly magical centerpiece. A flowing ice sculpture that changed between three dimensional representations of the crests of each school and a rendition of the TriWizard Cup.

Harry pulled out a chair for Hermione, and was pleased to see the others doing the same for their dates.  He smiled as Hermione took her seat, seeing the look of happiness on her face made every minute leading up to this worth it.

He read the card on his plate, and saw it appeared to be a menu.  Glancing at the others, he saw Dumbledore call out clearly “Roast chicken and boiled potatoes”.  A moment later it appeared on the plate before him. Apparently tonight's dinner would be slightly different than normal dinners.  Even better though, at least to him, was the fact that apparently the castle elves really liked Hermione, as she had a menu option everyone else did not.  While Harry asked for and received his seared beef and mash with steamed vegetables, Hermione was able to order caramelized Salmon, an option no one else was afforded.

“I didn’t see fish on the menu,” an officious Percy Weasley commented from Hermione’s other side.

“The house elves know I really like fish,” Hermione returned, indicating her ears. “And isn’t Mr. Crouch coming?  You are in his seat after all.”

“Unfortunately he took ill recently,” Percy explained. “He chose me of all his assistants to represent him here.”

“Must have really liked your cauldron bottom report,” Harry commented, earning him a reproachful look from Hermione.

“Yes, well, he knows quality when he sees it,” Percy agreed snobbishly, then turned to Bagman to try to converse with him.  Hermione’s look cracked as he looked away, a small smile causing its ire to lose all effectiveness.

The rest of the meal was fairly pleasant, though when Fleur and Hermione began to converse in French, Harry was shocked to discover he actually understood some of it.  A whispered conversation with Hermione after led the pair to believe it was an effect of the bond and Hermione made a note to discuss it with Madam Pomfrey later.

A resounding tinkling was heard as Dumbledore tapped his fork on his glass and cut through the noise, causing quiet to fill the hall.  He stood, and his voice rang clear throughout.

“Another wonderful meal,” he began, “and if I may suggest, let us give a warm round of applause for the professors who decorated for us this evening.”  The applause was heartfelt, though not thunderous. “Now, it is tradition for the champions to start the ball. So, Gentlemen and Lady, if you would?”

As they’d agreed before hand, all four males stood, and turned to their respective dates, bowing.  They requested the dance, offering their dates a hand to assist them up. The ladies accepted of course, and together, the eight of them made their way to the dance floor.

The music started, and Harry was instantly grateful to Professor Mcgonagall for the extra lessons.  While not overly complicated, the Wizarding Waltz was not a dance for someone to just wing. Harry’s nerves settled after just a few seconds, thanks to the now familiar feel of Hermione in his arms.  Looking down at her smiling face, Harry simply lost himself to the dance. The couples whirled and spun their way around the floor, passing each other as they danced. The laughter and joyful sounds they made were truly enchanting, and Harry almost missed the cue.

After their first lesson, Hermione had inquired about possibly adding the other champions to their dance class.  McGonagall, at this unexpected request, had asked why. Hermione, being Hermione, explained that to truly show the unity of the champions, she wanted to try and do a partner swap move.  It would combine Muggle and Wizarding waltz moves, and require a bit of practice to achieve, but if they pulled it off, it would be epic. The venerable Scotswoman actually smiled as Hermione explained, and rapidly agreed.  So did the others.

As they hit the cue, the four ladies, all with their backs to each other, disengaged from their partners and backed into each other, forming a small circle facing out.  The men, expecting this, began a spin and leap maneuver that landed them before a different partner, bowing to them. The girls curtsied, and joined their new partners as they resumed dancing.  The crowd was riotous in cheers at the perfectly executed, completely unexpected move.

As Harry continued to dance, this time with Cho, he grinned at the flabbergasted looks on the adults faces.  It was a short time before they again performed the maneuver, this time Harry ended up with Fleur.

“Zis is amazing,” she laughed as they continued to dance. “I zink we have stolen the show.”

“Good,” Harry laughed. “This has been fun, but I'm afraid it’s time to leave you,” and they executed another swap.

“Thank you for this Harry,” Luna said with a smile on her face.  “This dance alone is worth it.”

“Well I hope you have many more,” Harry agreed.

“Oh I will,” Luna agreed happily, “But your wife will dominate your night, so this is it for us I’m afraid.”

“What?” Harry almost tripped at the girls declaration. “What do you…” but it was too late as the last swap occurred and Hermione was back in his arms.  He savored the feeling as they danced to the end, pushing Luna’s revelation aside to just dance with his love.

 


	22. Christmas Surprises

**22 Christmas Surprises**

 

It was well past midnight before they made it to their quarters.  Harry’s tie was undone but still hanging around his neck with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, while Hermione carried her shoes in her hand.  The obviously beat, but deliriously happy, couple staggered in.

“What a night,” Harry breathed, pulling Hermione too him for a searing kiss.  “I hope you had fun.”

“I had an amazing time Mr. Potter,” Hermione grinned, “but now it’s time for bed.”

“Awwww.”

“Be good Harry, or you don’t get your present.”

“What present?”

“Come to bed and find out,” she teased him, slowly pulling him into their bedroom.

“Where you lead, I shall follow,” Harry grinned, following her in.  He kissed her softly as she led him across to the bed.  “I don’t see a present here…” he teased.

“It’s right in front of you,” she blushed. “You just need to unwrap it…”

“Unwrap…” Harry’s brain finally caught up and he got serious, “Hermione, I… We aren’t ready for that.”

“Not that silly,” Hermione blushed so hard she was pretty sure it made it to her knees.  “I just… I just want to sleep with my husband tonight.  I want… I want you to see me, and I want to see you.  Not everything, but for tonight, I want to feel you cuddled up to me, your skin on mine.”

“Hermione,” his blush matching hers.

“I’m not saying everything… just… I want us to undress each other to our underwear, then go to bed,” she explained, running her hands over his shirt covered chest.  “I know a small part of this is the bond reducing my inhibitions, but tonight I want my husband to know his wife a bit more.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, his hands caressing her shoulders.  Her nod into his chest was all he needed.  Stepping back, she gently led him to the bed.  She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt as she did so.  Once she finished, her hands moved inside, caressing his bare chest as he groaned.  Fire trailed behind her hands as she kissed his exposed chest, her hands moving to his shoulders and gently pushing his shirt off.

He leaned down, and kissed her deeply, longingly.  Then pulled back, breathing heavily.  Her fingers plucked and pulled, loosening his belt, before undoing his trousers and sliding them over his hips, leaving him standing there in his shorts, his desire visible.  Grinning at his obvious arousal, Hermione turned to him, presenting her back to him as she pulled the pins to release her hair.

“Unzip me,” she said looking over her shoulder.

Harry kissed her exposed shoulder as his trembling hands found the hidden zipper at the small of her back.  A tremor ran through him as he slowly released the dress.  His hands ran up her back, resting on her shoulders as he leaned in and kissed her hair.  A slight shift, his feather light caress moved to the outside of her arms, and lightly brushed her dress off her shoulders.  As it pooled at her feet,  he closed his eyes and slid his hands down her arms before moving back to her sides and around to her belly.  He gently pulled her back into him, his eyes still closed and his lips whispering over her neck.

“Are you completely sure?” his voice trembled.

“Yes Harry,” her voice shook just as much, “but just sleep. Tonight is a step, one of many we’ll take, but it’s one I want to take.”

She turned in his arms, facing him, her pert breasts pressing into his toned chest.  She pulled him down for a kiss, the skin to skin contact making her shudder.

“Now let’s go to bed.”

 

_____________

 

Harry woke slowly, as he usually did.  It was hot in their bed, more so than normal on a cold December morning.  As he groggily stretched without moving, as trick he’d learned so as not to disturb Hermione, a couple of things registered in his sleep addled brain.  One, he was sleeping in just his boxers, something he'd stopped doing when he started sharing a bed with Hermione.  Two, Hermione was curled up against him and her tail was lazily swishing across the front of his thighs, an action that guaranteed his morning situation was fully present.  Third, Hermione was also sleeping without Pajamas.  Fourth…wait, what?

As Harry’s brain finally caught on to the lack of clothes for both teens, he recalled the previous night.  Hermione’s offer, request maybe, and the resulting sleeping situation.  He groaned as he realized that, while he was very happy with how this felt, he was sure Hermione would be embarrassed when she woke as she was holding his hand to her bare breast.  There was no way to extricate his hand without waking her, which would result in her being even more upset.

“If you try and move your hand away,” Hermione growled, “you’ll regret it.”

“Yes dear,” snarked Harry, kissing her shoulder and closing his eyes.  He inhaled the exotic scent of her, the wildflowers of her shampoo, and the lavender of her lotion.  “Sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, scooting back against him. “I woke to such a wonderful feeling that I didn’t want to get up.”

“Oh?” he asked curiously, nuzzling her neck.

“Yeah, my husband showed how much he appreciates my body,” she pressed her bum back a bit, contacting his morning situation in emphasis.  He could see her grin even with his eyes closed, “and who am I to argue with such _hard_ proof.”

“God you’re going to be the end of me,” Harry groaned.  Fighting to restrain his hormonal impulses.

“Harry?” she sighed. “I’m not saying it has to be now, but we are going to continue this.”

“You...” he paused, fighting the flips of joy his inner self was doing, “You sure about this?”  He kept his eyes shut as he felt her shift.  She rolled over and sighed seeing his shut eyes.  Reaching out, she gently caressed his cheek, leaning her forehead against his.

“Open your eyes Harry.”  He did, staring hard into her eyes. Green eyes piercing her brown ones, and she felt a trickle of emotion that wasn’t hers.  Fear, lust, love, tenderness, longing.  _Our bond_ she thought.  

“Harry, I want this,” she told him firmly. “I know you’re afraid of the bond pushing us, but I think it’s also calming our hormones.  Making it harder for them to take over.  Look at last night, you had a barely clothed young woman in your bed and what did you do?  You just held her.  How many of our year mates, or even those older, could do that?”

“So last night was a test?” Harry asked confused.

“No, last night was not a test, it was a step in our relationship,” Hermione sighed. “I did it because I want this, I want you.  I want to see you and for you to see me.  I’m not saying I have our physical relationship planned out, but I think that a bit of experimentation is allowed.”

“So it wasn’t a test but it was an experiment?”  Harry chuckled, grinning to take any sting out of it.  His hands had also started to stroke her back, which was rather pleasurable and very distracting.

“Yes, no,” she sighed. “I’ve noticed something and Madam Pomfrey was able to confirm it.  We’re not as young as we thought.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, pausing his ministrations in confusion.

“I mean, the bond is maturing us faster than we’d normally mature.” Hermione started to slip into lecture mode before catching herself.  “There’s a spell that can monitor maturation.  Physical, Emotional, and Magical.  Harry, the clothes we bought you this summer barely fit anymore.  They did before the first task, but not now, why?”

“Growth spurt?” he guessed.

“Yes, but a forced one,” Hermione agreed. “The bond realizes we are still growing, but it needs our maturity to ensure a proper bond so it’s accelerating our maturity.  Madam Pomfrey checked and we’re about a year ahead of where we were five months ago.  It’s not a lot, but it is there.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that our bodies are being forced to mature faster to handle the magic of the Bond.  Basically, while we may be fourth years, physically and magically we are about where we’d be at the end of this year or the start of next year.  Emotionally is harder to quantify but we both appear more mature there as well.  By this summer, next year for sure, we’ll probably effectively be physically mature.  Emotional and Magical may lag a bit longer, they’re harder to quantify.”

“So that makes it ok to do this?” Harry was definitely confused now.  “We’re more mature so we do more things?”

“No, it’s more like we’re more mature so we’re allowed to try more if we want,” Hermione sighed, “I’m not saying this level of intimacy is unheard of in fourteen or fifteen year olds, but it’s more a fifteen or sixteen year old thing.  I’m not saying that’s why I did it either.”

“Ok…” Harry hesitated. “I’m not mad you did this, but I'd have liked to be involved in the decision.”

Hermione closed her eyes as he stroked just above her tail, “Maybe I should have talked to you about it first, but it just felt right.”  She kissed him lightly on the lips, “Are you complaining?”

“No, but an idea what was expected would have been nice.” Harry admitted, grinning as she started to purr.

“Tell you what,” Hermione moaned, her tail wrapping possessively around Harry’s wrist. “You don’t stop that, and later on the train we’ll discuss how we proceed.”

“And if I want to talk now?” his grin told her he was teasing, but she didn’t care.

“Simple, I kill you for being a tease and find someone else,” and she kissed him.

It was about twenty minutes later, as Hermione lay curled into Harry’s side, that they spoke again.

“Hermione, it’s not that I don’t want more of this,” he sighed, still slowly tracing one hand up and down her back, “but I'm not sure I trust myself.”

“Do you trust me?” she asked contentedly.

“Of course I do.”

“Would you ever hurt me?”

“No, never.”

“Then there’s nothing to fear.”

“But what if…” he trailed off as she sat up a bit, and he closed his eyes so prevent seeing her bits.

“Harry,” she growled, “look at me.”

He opened his eyes, staring fixedly at her face, determination etched across his face.

“No Harry,” she sighed, sitting up and straddling his stomach. “Look at me, all of me.  I want you to.  I want you to see me like this, I want you to want to see me like this, and do things together like this.”

Harry struggled, he really did, but there’s only so much restraint a teenage boy can have when the girl he loves is demanding he look at her mostly naked body.  His eyes followed the curve of her neck as it met her shoulders, the silky smooth skin luminous in the early morning light.  The swell of her pert breasts, topped with perky pink nipples, stared back at him.  

“I...I…” he stammered, trying to say something, but he just couldn’t kick his mind back into gear.

“Yes Harry, I understand,” she blushed at his incoherence, “and this is as far as I'm comfortable going right now.  What that means is we’re going to start doing more than just kissing.  Not all the time, nor always this exposed, but I want to try things with you.”

Harry nodded numbly.

“Goofball,” she giggled, playfully slapping his arm.  “Now we don’t have time now, we have to catch the train, but we’ll talk more later.”

Hermione got up, moving towards the ensuite, and glanced back at Harry.  His eyes were glued to her backside.  Blushing, but happy he was this enamored with her, she made her way to the shower.

 

______________________

 

The train ride to London was one of the best they’d ever had.  A large percentage of the normal holiday exodus had opted to stay at the school this year, as the Yule Ball prevented them from enjoying Christmas morning with their families, and most of the purebloods would be dragged to stuffy New Year’s parties where they wouldn’t be allowed to even speak.  This left the train relatively unpopulated, mostly muggleborns and a spattering of others.  It also meant that Harry and Hermione wouldn’t be interrupted during their ‘talk’.

“So let me make sure I understand this correctly,” Harry was struggling a bit. “Because of the Bond, and the magic we now share, our bodies are maturing faster so they can handle it?”

“I think so,” Hermione answered from his lap. “All we really know is both of us are about six to ten months ahead of where we should have been based on what Madam Pomfrey’s scans said last year.”

They’d commandeered their own compartment, and were currently sprawled out talking about Hermione’s revelation that morning.  Harry was kicked back with his feet on the table while Hermione had curled up on the bench and was currently using his lap as a pillow.  She was also rather insistent on receiving more rubs behind her ears.

“So could it be something else?  The were-cat thing maybe?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Hermione conceded. “However, it didn’t start to show until after the first task.”

“How many times has she checked?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted. “I assumed every moon but there really wouldn’t be a need would there?”

“I wouldn't think so,” Harry agreed, “but in any case, whatever it was, was it a one-time boost and we’ll continue to mature normally, or is it a full term rapid maturation?”

“She thinks it’s a general rapid maturation,” she informed him, “but I'm not so sure.”

“Hermione Granger, Sorry, Hermione _Potter_ disagreeing with a teacher?” Harry teased, rubbing behind her ears to let her know he was joking.

“Well, she’s not really a teacher, but yes,” Hermione blushed, “I think it’s a one-time boost, for a couple reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Well, we both went through a growth spurt, at the same time.  If it was a general speed up, we’d still have grown, just not as rapidly.  For another, to accelerate at effectively double the normal rate would be a very harsh, long term issue.  There's a reason you take years to mature.  If you don’t adapt, it causes issues.”

“But a six month jump is ok?”

“It’s effectively an enormous growth spurt,” she explained, rolling to look at him. “While it’s an extreme one, your body is adapted to handle growth spurts.  But that’s the point, it can handle spurts, as in short periods of rapid growth.  It can’t handle it long term.”

“Makes sense I guess,”

“And magic is similar,” she continued. “While we have ‘accidental magic’, which I still think is a misnomer, but we really start to have a stable magical core at about 10 years old, which is why we don’t start Hogwarts until eleven.”

“I guess that makes sense too,” Harry pondered, “I mean it doesn’t make sense to teach magic if you can’t cast consistently.  Heck, it’s probably dangerous.  But why not start theory and non-wand classes earlier?  Potions, Herbology, introduction to the magical world for the first born witches and wizards?”

“Probably because the elite like the Malfoys don’t want anyone to know any better?” Hermione hissed. “Have you seen the Muggle Studies curriculum?  It’s a hundred years out of date and taught by a pure-blood who’s never lived outside of the magical world.  Then there’s the fact we have no Wizard Studies or anything similar to teach us about the magical world.”

“Okay Okay, I get it, we need better classes,” Harry said in rapid agreement. “But back to the original point, so you think we just got a big boost to our maturation, rather than it pushing us to really get it over with?”

“Sorry, Harry. Yes, I do,” Hermione snuggled into him a bit. “I think that overall, we are just ‘old for our age’ at this point.  You’re basically where I was and I'm basically a year ahead of everyone else.”

“And two ahead of Ron,” Harry quipped.

“Harry…”

“I know, but the git is getting on my nerves,” Harry sighed. “It’s going to take a lot to change that.  Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

“Agreed, but if he makes an effort, an honest one, are you going to try to repair your friendship?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “It’s never going to be what it was, too much has happened for that.  But I won't say we can never patch things to the point of being friends, but I will say it will take a lot of time.”

“I think that’s fair,” Hermione purred a bit, starting to rub Harry’s leg.  “And McLaggen?”

“I’m not sure about him, what about you?”

“I just wish we knew how long he’d been being affected by whatever it was,” she sighed. “But it’s definitely something to keep an eye out for, more people being compelled to be nasty.”

“True,” Harry agreed then grinned, “and speaking of being naughty…”

“I said nasty, not naughty,” Hermione defended coyly.

“Either way, we need to really discuss that part,” Harry pointed out.

“Is that a complaint?” she teased.

“About what happened?  No,” Harry sighed. “About not talking about it beforehand?  Maybe.”

“Harry?”

“I love you Hermione, there is no question of that in my mind,” Harry said seriously, but with feeling. “That said, I am still not sure I can trust myself.  There are so many things that have changed for me, and for us, lately that I don't know what is _me_ and what’s not.”

Hermione sat up, then wiggled to face him.  Placing a hand on either side of his face, she slowly drew him to her, and kissed him with a slow, deep, love filled kiss that curled both their toes.

“Harry,” Hermione sighed once they broke their kiss, “I never want to force you, or to make you uncomfortable.  But I also don’t want to deny what I feel and what I want.”

“I don’t want you to,” Harry cut her off, “but I do want you to talk to me before taking such a major step.  While I’m not sure last night would have happened the way it did, it would have happened eventually.  I know you know what you feel, but remember that you grew up knowing what love is.  I’m still trying to define it.”

“Want to know a secret?” Hermione whispered to him as they rested their foreheads together. “So am I.”

“You are?”

“Yes, Harry. I know what love is, but until you, I'd never felt love that was not for my parents.  I guess I had an idea of what it would feel like, but it pales in comparison to how I feel about you.”

“Hermione…”

“I know, cheesy, but it’s true.”

“And that’s why you did what you did last night?”

“No,” she grinned a bit, “I did what I did last night because, yes, I love you, but I want to know what it is to be with you, physically.  I took a step to bring us closer to that.  I know you’re not ready for _that,_ neither am I.  But I am ready to explore that aspect of the relationship.  I won’t sleep that undressed all the time, but by the summer I expect it will happen more often than not.  And between now and then, I want to explore.”

“Explore?  What do you have in mind?” Harry asked, his voice raw with lust as he remembered how the morning had started.

“I mean that I want to start learning your body, what feels good to you,” she explained, running her hands over his chest. “Teach you what makes me feel good,” she kissed him again. “And together find ways to make each other feel really good.” Another kiss. “I want to find each and every way to please each other,” a deeper kiss, her tongue dueling his, “and I want to practice a lot.” 

Hermione straddled Harry’s lap, and resumed kissing him.  It was a long time before either spoke again.

  
  



	23. Christmas with the Grangers

**A/N: per a strange twist of fate, I am not J.K. Rowling, thus I own nothing but my ideas.  Thanks to Kaystar742 for her tireless efforts fixing my bad American English.**

**Hopefully I’ll be able to publish a bit more regularly now that life is settling down.**

 

**23 Christmas with the Grangers**

 

The pair walked off the express looking slightly disheveled and both having wide grins on their faces.  Anne and George both saw it, but only Anne guessed why correctly.  George was still in denial and figured they’d just been short of sleep last night and were happy to be home.

“Mum, Dad,” Hermione yelled, running to hug her parents.  As she moved from her mother to her father, Anne pulled Harry in for a hug as well.

“Come on, you get one too you know.”

“Hmmppff,” came Harry’s reply as he was smothered in what he’d had to rename a Granger Hug.

“Sorry dear,” Anne apologized, letting him up for air, “I’m just so excited to have the two of you home.”

“It’s only for a week Mum,” Hermione reminded her.

“I know dear, but with you, well, the two of you now,” she responded. “Off at school 10 months a year, I need all the time I can get with you.”

“Plus with everything that’s been going on,” George put in as he held the door open for them to exit Kings Cross. “Any time with you is time well spent.”

“How have your classes been?” Anne asked, knowing this would excite Hermione a bit.

“Oh, they’re good I guess,” Hermione said evasively.

“What’s wrong?” George asked concerned.

“Nothing is wrong,” Harry chuckled, opening the door to George’s Landrover for his wife. “She’s just worried that since she only studied for an extra three hours a day for her end of terms, she’s going to get a T in everything.”

“T?” Anne asked as George started the car.

“Troll,” Harry explained. “It’s the wizarding equivalent of failing because you have the equivalent brain power.”

“And she thinks that studying for three hours isn’t enough?”

“No, anything less than eight is apparently a guaranteed failure.” Harry said solemnly, ignoring the elbow Hermione was trying to bury in his ribs.

“I’m not that bad,” she defended herself. “Besides, you threatened to withhold cuddles!  That’s just evil.”

“Honey,” Anne sighed, “We love you dearly, but in this instance, Harry is the more believable of the two of you.”

“Mum,” Hermione whined with a grin. 

“It’s true dear,” Anne confirmed. “Why, I remember you once studied so hard, and gave such in depth answers, the teacher took points away for being too detailed.”

“She did not,” Hermione was getting indignant.

“Well, she wanted to at least,” Anne grinned as they got on the road.  “And now that that is over, tell us how school really went.”

“Well,” Harry started, then sighed, “It’s been both good and bad.  Like we told you in our letters, the day we got back there was an incident, another student was cursed to attack us.”

“McSomething,” George said. “Yes, we remember.”

“Well that sparked the house meeting, and our separate quarters,” Hermione picked up the tale. “No one has questioned that yet.  But an unintended side effect was while the low grade harassment stopped, it’s created a rather large rift between us and the rest of our house.”

“They’re afraid to even speak to you now aren’t they?” Anne sighed.

“Basically,” Harry confirmed.  “There are a couple that still do.  Neville and the twins, actually, almost the entire quidditch team will at least say hi.  Faye is coming around too.”

“There are a few from other houses that will talk to us as well,” Hermione added. “Luna, Cho, and Padma from Ravenclaw.  Hannah, Susan, and Cedric from Hufflepuff.”

“Yeah, the other champions have been great,” Harry agreed.

“Speaking of,” Anne took the opening and ran with it. “How did your surprise at the Yule Ball go?”

“It was great,” Hermione told her cheerfully as Harry became bright red. “No one had a clue who Fleur and Viktor were going with until we walked in.”  Harry realized which Yule surprise was being discussed and his blush receded.  Anne had already noted it though, and made a mental note to have a talk with her daughter. “And the opening dance was everything we hoped it would be.”

“Oh Good, I’m glad your work paid off.”

“It did,” Harry interjected. “But my favorite part was when Neville left Fleur mid dance to cut in on Viktor and Luna.”

“Oh?” Anne queried, “And what happened?”

“Well, after about four dances or so,” Hermione began to tell the story, “Neville is dancing with Fleur for a slow song, and just stops.  He pulls back, thanks her for the wonderful time and asks her if she’d mind if he finished the dance with Luna.”

“At this point, everyone else had stopped dancing to watch,” Harry added, “Which is exactly how they planned it.”

“Right,” Hermione confirmed, “so she pretends to be confused, he explains that while he’s having a lovely time, his heart belongs to another, and she sadly agrees.  He steps over to Viktor and Luna, who were dancing not five feet away, and asked Luna to dance with him.”

“Viktor of course plays the gentleman, offering Luna the choice.  She of course picked Neville.”

“I do think they went a bit overboard afterwards though,” Hermione commented.

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, “but if they didn’t Neville and Luna would be open to getting revenge from their fans for spurning them.”

“But conjuring a cloud that rained rose petals over them as they danced the last dance?”

“Jealous honey?”

“Maybe a little,” Hermione admitted with a blush. “But I'm happy how things turned out anyway.”

“Good,” Anne agreed, then grinned. “Anything else big happen at school?”

“Not really,” Hermione evaded the implication. “School was actually fairly calm after the first task.  We’re currently working on how to survive the second.”

“You know what it is?” George asked as he turned onto A23.

“We think so,” Harry said. “There’s a fair bit of interpretation, but given that the people organizing this seem more interested in drama and making it exciting, rather than the lives that are affected, we’re fairly sure we know what’s going to happen.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring,” Anne said, sounding a bit fearful.

“It really isn’t,” Hermione agreed. “Especially since we’re about ninety-nine percent sure I’ll end up involved.”

“We kind of guessed that one honey,” George told her. “You got involved in the first task after all.”

“She doesn’t mean like that,” Harry said morosely. “The second task is in the Black Lake, in February mind you, and the clues tell us that we'll have to, and I quote: ‘find the life at stake’.  Basically it boils down to we have an hour to find and rescue a hostage.  The implications are grim if we don’t, though there is debate among the champions whether they’d actually do the hostages harm.”

“My word,” Anne gasped as George tried hard to maintain the car in traffic. “That’s barbaric.”

“To wizards, that’s entertainment” Hermione quipped, “But the really bad part is that one of the champions is part Veela.  Veela and Merpeople are hostile races, in fact, her entering the village can be considered an act of war.”

“And they haven’t changed anything to accommodate this?”

“We passed a message on to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said softly. “He has not responded yet.”

“I see,” Anne said, “and if he doesn’t?”

“Then the 2nd week of January, we go negotiate for ourselves… somehow.”

“Why somehow?”

“None of us speak Mermish,” Harry explained. “Though Cedric is going to ask his dad for help.  Apparently there is a Mermish translator at the Ministry, so Cedric is going to ask his father to contact him on Cedric’s behalf and arrange a meeting.”

“And Fleur is doing the same with the French Ministry,” Hermione added. “Since they will only be providing translation services, they should be ok to help.”

“So if you don’t get a response, what _is_ the plan?” George asked. “Head down early and negotiate?”

“Basically,” Hermione confirmed. “If we can, we’re trying to get an exemption for Fleur, a one-time pass kind of thing.  As she is being forced to compete or lose her magic, they may agree.  Or agree to allow the rest of us to release her hostage for her.”

“Wait, her hostage…” Anne started, her mind catching up. “That’s what you meant earlier about being involved, you expect to be taken as Harry’s hostage.”

“Can you think of anyone more likely?” Hermione sighed. “We are doing everything we can to prepare, including emergency options, but yes, I expect that I won’t even be asked, just stunned and enchanted to not wake until I surface.”

“And there’s no way to stop this?” George asked. “Surely it’s considered kidnapping at that point.”

“That’s why we also contacted Madam Bones and asked her and Susan to come over for tea tomorrow,” Hermione informed her parents. “We’re hoping that there’s something that she can do to help.”

 

___________________

 

Dinner that night was a muted affair, as the teens savored being home and the adults mulled over the information they had been given on the way home.  Dinner itself was takeaway fish and chips, a treat for their first night back.  Given the short night the night before, and long day they’d had already, it was an early night for all.  Despite that, Harry and Hermione didn’t go right to sleep, they stayed up a bit, talking some more.

“Are you really sure about this?” Harry asked, as they climbed into bed.  

“Am I sure it’s the right thing? Not a hundred percent, no,” she admitted, “Am I sure I want to start experimenting, yes.”

“But that’s…”

“Harry, I'm still figuring things out too,” she sighed as she snuggled into his arms, “But I know I enjoy sleeping with you,” she blushed, “I mean like this.”

“I know what you mean,” he kissed her bare shoulder, “I like it too.  Though getting used to you wearing less will take time.  Seeing you, and feeling you, in a tank top and shorts, while not generally considered sexy, does weird things to me.”

“Good things I hope.”

“I think so, though it does inspire thoughts that need held in.”

“Good,” she sighed, “Now we just have to work on getting them to come out and play.”

 

It was the next morning, after everyone was up, that the conversation resumed over breakfast.  

“So let me make sure I've got this straight,” George began, “not satisfied with sending Harry against a full grown, vicious dragon, the organizers are kidnapping my daughter, putting her at the bottom of a freezing lake in February surrounded by Merfolk, a giant squid, and who knows what else?  And Harry has to rescue her within an hours’ time?”

“Well,” Hermione pondered, “I imagine Grindylows would definitely be present as well, and I doubt the giant squid will interfere, but yes daddy, that does sum it up nicely.”

“And this is entertainment to wizards?” Anne asked incredulously.

“Apparently,” Harry sighed. “I just hope I get Hermione out safely.”

“I hope we all get out safely,” Hermione corrected, “all four champions and their hostages.”

“I wonder,” George began softly, “if you can identify who will likely be taken, could you place some kind of tracking spell on them?”

“It’s possible, but how would we know who’s being taken?” Hermione asked, then sighed at Harry’s raised eyebrow. “Other than me of course.”

“Well, it will probably be Cho for Cedric, unless he has a family member they can use.” Harry pointed out. “As for Fleur and Viktor, we’d probably have to ask them.”

“Even with two, we could try it,” Hermione admitted. “But that’s pretty advanced magic.”

“It’s a good thing we have three other champions to help us then isn’t it?” Harry pointed out, then paused. “Hermione, have you noticed anything new lately with our bond?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there have been a couple times, only a couple though, when we were separated for a bit for some reason, and I _felt_ where you were.  Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could tell.  Like when I opened the door to the common room for you before you got there.”

“I wondered how you did that, I figured you had some alert spell or something,” Hermione mused. “But I think I know what you mean.  In that same instance, I knew you were in the common room, not our quarters when I approached.”

“I don’t want to rely on it, but it may be the edge we need if we can hone it.” 

“I have a question,” Anne cut in. “Speaking of your bond, will you be able to be separated long enough to compete?”

“Oh bollocks,” Harry exclaimed. “We can barely get by for long enough to use the loo and shower apart.”

“Language Harry,” Hermione scolded him and looked back to her mum, “Yes, the bond will make this difficult.  Even if I'm not the one chosen as his hostage, unless I go with him, it’ll be an hour or more between contacts.  Who knows how long it will be between when they take the hostages and the start of the task.”

“I think we need to talk with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomphrey about this, maybe even Madam Bones.”

 

______________

 

“Welcome back to our home,” Anne greeted Madam Bones later that day.

“Thank you for having us,” Amelia returned, as she and Susan entered the house.

“Hi Susan,” Hermione greeted the redheaded girl with Madam Bones.

“Hi Hermione, Hi Harry,” she returned shyly.

“Well come in, make yourselves at home.” Anne guided them into the living room.  Susan, stared, trying to figure out what half the things in the room were.  She had spent very little time in the Muggle world growing up, much as her aunt may have desired otherwise.  She knew some things, like how to dress to not arouse much suspicion, but not much more than that.  She just never thought it was worth the effort.  She wasn’t a blood supremacist or a bigot or anything, she just never thought she would end up in the muggle world for any reason, nor did she think the muggle world had anything worth learning.

How wrong she’d been.  She heard soft music coming from somewhere, but couldn't figure out where.  Hermione’s mom was able to turn the lights on with just a flick of a protrusion on the wall, how did she do that without magic?  And it really didn’t look that different from a magical home either.

“Uh, Hermione?” she asked quietly, as her aunt and the Grangers sat and began to talk. “How do you do all this without magic?”

“All what?” Hermione asked, not understanding the question.

“This,” Susan said, waving her hand at the room. “Where is the music coming from?  How do you turn on the lights without lighting candles or lamps?  How do you keep it warm without a fire?”

“Well,” Hermione grinned, “the music comes from a stereo, think a gramophone with many horns, only the gramophone can play many records, or even pull the music from the air.”

“Like actually from the air?” Susan asked in awe, “Or like a wizarding wireless?”

“I’m not sure, but I'd guess like a wizarding wireless,” Hermione continued, as she settled into the couch next to Harry.  “As for the lights, we use electricity and light bulbs instead of lamps or candles.”

“What’s electricity?”

“Hmmmm,” Hermione pondered, “Well, you know when you walk around on a carpet a lot, then you try to touch something and you get a shock?”

“Yeah…” Susan answered hesitantly, obviously not sure where this was going.

“Well, that shock is electricity, specifically static electricity.  Think of it as kind of like stored magical power.  It’s like when you have two cups of water connected by a pipe with different levels, the water moves between them to make the levels the same, right?  So electricity is like that but with power, electricity being high power, with me so far?”

“Maybe, keep going though.”

“Ok, so if electricity is potential spell power, then think of a light bulb as an object with a lumos spell without power,” Hermione started to lecture. “As we feed that potential spell power to the _lumos_ spell, it powers the spell.  By supplying or removing the potential power, we either ‘cast’ the _lumos_ , or take the power away and the _lumos_ dies.”

“So by giving power to the… what was it?  Light bulb?” Susan began, then continued at Hermione’s nod, “So power to the light bulb is like casting _Lumos,_ and removing the power is like casting _Nox?_ ”

“Yup,”

“And the thing on the wall,”

“A light switch,” Harry supplied

“And the light switch, that gives or takes the power?”

“It’s called turning on or off, but yes,” Hermione confirmed.

“Ok, and the heat?  How do you heat so many rooms without fireplaces?” Susan looked around, “I know we heat with Runes, but you can’t use those.”

“Well, we could, if I wanted to, now that I am here,” Hermione countered, “which we may look at someday.  But basically, we have a heater in the basement that heats the air and then blows it into the rooms around the house.  It has a part that senses the temperature and tells it when to start or stop heating the air based on how warm we tell it to keep the house.”

“Incredible,” Susan remarked in awe, “and all this without magic?”

“Non-magicals have actually done a lot of amazing things without magic,” Harry entered the conversation. “Even some of the simplest things would amaze a wizard.  Lined paper and pens come to mind.”

“Planes,” added Hermione, “cell phones, or even house phones.”  

“Computers.” 

“CD players.”

“Television.”

“Ok,” Susan cut them off. “What are those things?”

“Well, lined paper is a piece of paper, like parchment but lighter weight and a standard size, with lines to guide and standardize the size of lettering to be written on it.  Think about it.  If me and Harry both write twelve inches of an essay, who wrote more?”

“You both wrote twelve inches, it’d be the same.”

“No, because I write neater.” Hermione looked over at Harry. “Sorry.”

“Why?  You’re right, as always.”

“Anyway, because I write neater and smaller, I’ll have written more than Harry.  By using lined paper, we’ll have written much closer to the same amount.  Plus it helps with neatness and legibility.”

“Ok, what about the rest?”

“Well, pens are like quills, they write, but you don’t need an inkwell, it has the ink already in it.  Planes, well, you might not believe me but it’s how Muggles fly.  You can pack tens or even hundreds into the bigger ones.  CDs are like records but much smaller and hold more.  CD Players are what you use to play them.  Computers I’m not sure how to explain.  And television I can show you later but it’s like a wizarding photo that keeps going and has sound.”

Susan was starting to look a bit flustered at this point.  As she reminded herself earlier, she didn’t look down on Muggles, but these claims were incredible.  And without magic.  Given what she had seen so far in this house, she would have imagined Hermione’s family was rather wealthy given the wonders in it, but then she reminded herself that she had seen dozens of houses like it down the street.  

“Are you done trying to make my niece's head explode?” Madam Bones asked from across the room.

“Oh no, we weren’t doing that,” Harry said quickly, “if we were trying to do that we’d have told her about the moon landings or people living in space.”

“Ok, now I know you’re pulling my leg,” Susan said confidently. “If you’d lie to me about that, how much of the rest was a lie too?”

Harry looked at Hermione, then over at the adults.  Anne and George were looking at each other and trying not to laugh, while Amelia was merely shaking her head.

“Susan, they’re not lying about any of it,” Madam Bones confirmed. “Muggles really did travel to the moon, they did it something like twenty or thirty years ago too.”

“Not you too Auntie,” Susan moaned.  “It’s bad enough they are pulling my leg.”

“Wait, I know.” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up.  “Come with me Susan, I'll show you my old school books.  I think there’s even a picture of the landings in them.”

Once Hermione had drug the recalcitrant girl upstairs, Amelia reached into her pocket and withdrew a small envelope.  “Harry, it’s not the present I wanted to get you, that one unfortunately wasn’t ready.  I hope this is enough.”

“Just getting Christmas presents is a gift, I’m sure whatever you got me will be wonderful,” Harry responded, taking the envelope.  Inside, he found a newspaper clipping.  Pulling it out, he found it was from a Muggle newspaper.  Curious, he searched it trying to figure out why he’d…  His thoughts were cut off as he found the pertinent article.  The Dursley’s.

“Harry?” Hermione called, running back into the room, “What’s the matter?”

Numbly, he held out the clipping.  Moving over to him, she calmly took the clipping before sitting down and let him fold into her.  Holding him, she started to read the article, a crime report.

 

_Vernon Dursley (38), Petunia Dursley (37), and their son Dudley (14) of Little Whinging, Surry, were sentenced today on charges of Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Bribery, tax Fraud, and several other charges.  Because the case involves a minor, details are limited but sources report most are in relation to a relative who was reportedly systematically abused and neglected for over ten years while in their care.  Final sentencing happened today in which the elder Dursley’s were each sentenced to fifty years in a medium security facility while their son was remanded to a juvenile facility where he will remain until his eighteenth birthday.  Once released, any further infractions of the law will result in all charges he is guilty of having their sentences applied as they are currently suspended, but not dismissed.  This unusual circumstance was used due to the nature and extent of his involvement in his parent’s crimes._

 

Susan looked confused as Harry cried tears of relief as he was held by Hermione and the rest of his family.

 


	24. Negotiations

**A/N:  Hey, I’m back… again.  Sorry for the delay, I got sidetracked with writing on Deaths Child, then after discussion my wonderful Alpha/Beta Kaystar742 a massive rewrite on it.  Never fear though, I have this written through the beginning of fifth year, so there is much more to come.**

**With the world going insane, I hope this helps you deal with it and gives you a bit of warm fuzzy.**

**24 Negotiations**

 

The rest of the break passed far too quickly for either teen.  While both George and Anne were happy to spend time with the children, they still found odd moments to themselves, and true to their pledge, they did work on being more physical in their expressions.  This was, of course, hindered by the presence of Hermione’s parents, but what teen doesn’t figure out ways to be around their loved one?

It was a dreary January morning as they boarded the Express to return to Hogwarts.  The platform was again much less crowded due to the ball and the short break, but they still arrived half an hour early and found a compartment.  

“Hermione?”

“Yes Harry?” She looked up from her book.

“Have you had much luck lately finding your inner animal?”

“Not really.” She sighed, marking her page and setting the book down.

“Trouble concentrating?” He grinned. “Or trouble getting your head to stop going 5000 kilometers an hour?”

“Prat.” She smacked his arm, then curled into it.  “A bit of both actually.”

“Well, I had a thought on that.”

“Oh?  What is this breakthrough you’ve discovered?”

“Not sure it’s a breakthrough, but it might help,” he sighed. “It’s two things actually.  The first is maybe we should try our exercises together.”

“We do, usually.”

“I mean touching each other. The bond has created a connection between us, so it stands to reason that we should embrace that aspect while trying to center our whole being.  If we try and sync our meditation, while in physical contact, wouldn’t we be reinforcing each other?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Hermione frowned, “but won’t we be affecting each other as well?  I mean if we’re using the bond when we meditate, won’t that skew our meditation, as we have a part of our being that isn’t ours?”

“That’s my point, the bond _is_ part of who we are, and thus, it’s important to the attempt.  By denying it, we’re denying a part of ourselves.”

Hermione rocked back, eyes wide.  Harry sat back and watched Hermione think.  It was rather brilliant to watch.  The quick flitting of her eyes as she mentally recalled information, the slight chewing of her lower lip as she went through scenarios in her head.  It really drove him wild watching her like this, but he knew interrupting her was tantamount to suicide so he waited.

“I think you might be onto something there Harry.  Our issues started to appear after the first task, and if you're right about how the bond is a part of us, and who we are now, you’d be right that trying to remove or suppress that part would inhibit our progress.  I think we should ask Professor McGonagall on Saturday when we see her for our class.”

“I agree.”

“What was your second idea?”

“Well, this exercise is supposed to get us closer to our animal side, right?”

“Yes…” her voice slightly suspicious of where this was going.

“Well, why not get a boost towards that by trying it during the full moon?”

“But we’re not…” she broke off, and Harry grinned as she put the pieces together, “Oh my god Harry, that’s brilliant.”

“So you agree?”

“Of course, if we are already in a more animalistic state during the full moon, we’d start that much closer.  If we weren’t both likely to be feline it may not work as well, but even if we’re not, we’re still more in tune to the natural world during the full moon.”

“So we take this to McGonagall?”

“Definitely.  In fact...” she grinned, then flicked her wand to the door to the compartment and with a couple flicks and a couple mumbled spells, the doors latched and locked, the shutters closed, and the noise from the hall disappeared. “I think this brilliance deserves a bit of a reward…”

Harry had no objections as his wife began to kiss him.

 

____________________

 

“Gerald O'Connor, at your service Ladies and Gentlemen,” the tall brown haired man greeted them as they approached the shore of the Black Lake.

“Mr. O’Connor,” Cedric greeted him in return, “I am Cedric Diggory, this is Viktor Krum, Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour, Cho Chang, and Hermione Granger.”

“Pleasure to meet you all, I understand you wish to speak to the merpeople?”

“Yes, we understand they will be involved in a particular event and wish to negotiate with them,” Cedric explained. “But before we continue, I believe you were informed we would need a confidentiality oath before we continue too far.”

“Yes, though I would like to know the oath before agreeing to more,” Gerrald agreed. “Blind oaths are very unwise.”

“Of course Mr. O'Connor,” Hermione said, pulling out the piece of parchment they’d written the oath on and handing it to him.

“This seems reasonable enough,” O’Connor said after reading it, pulling out his wand, he began, “I, Gerald O'Connor, do hereby agree to keep all discussions between myself, the triwizard champions and their companions here today, and the merpeople of the Black Lake confidential to all except the Department of Magical Law Enforcement acting in an official capacity.  This confidentiality may be breached only if lives are in danger, all parties agree, or once the First of March, Nineteen Ninety-four arrives.  So mote it be.”  There was a brief flash as the path was accepted, and he lowered his wand.  “Now that that is over, what's this really about?”

“Well Mr. O'Connor, we’re trying to prevent a war,” Harry said with a grin.

“You’re not paying me to joke with me,” he pointed out.

“We’re not joking,” Hermione informed him. “The triwizard organizers, in their infinite wisdom, have decided the second task will involve rescuing hostages from the Black Lake.  We suspect rather confidently, based on the way the clue was presented, that it will be from the Merfolk Village.”

“Ok, I’m with you so far but how will this cause a war?” Gerald asked skeptically.

“It’ll cause a war, Mr. O'Connor, because Fleur is a Veela,” Harry informed him.

“That would do it,” O'Connor agreed after a moment of stunned silence.  “So what are we trying to accomplish, exactly?”

“The biggest issue is that if Fleur doesn’t give it a legitimate effort, and isn’t that a wonderfully vague qualifier?” Hermione quipped.  “If she doesn’t give legitimate effort, she loses her magic, which means she dies.  We also suspect, but cannot and will not be able to confirm until the day of the task, that they may use her sister, also a Veela, as a Hostage.  We’re trying to get someone else selected, but it’s going to be difficult since we have no say in that matter.”

“So you’re looking for, at the very least, an exception to the treaty?”

“We’re looking for a solution,” Cedric clarified. “We have ideas, including them moving the holding area for the Hostages outside their territory, but we don’t know what their territory actually is.  If it’s the entire lake, then we’d have to have at least one exception for Fleur.”

“I see,” Gerald considered.  “They may want something in return you know.  I’m not sure what, but if you’re asking for a boon from them, they may want one in return.”

“That’s negotiable,” Harry said, “There’s not a lot we personally can do, but what we can we will try.”  He glanced around at his companions, “We do have one other issue to discuss.  One that requires another, more restrictive oath I’m afraid.”

“How much more restrictive?” Gerald asked suspiciously.

“Basically the same except the only ones that can release you are myself and Hermione.  And you must retain the secret until it is publicly announced,” Harry told him levelly. “It’s important that no one else knows it.  So important, not even my fellow champions know it.  Because of this, I’m offering an additional fifty Galleons to your fee.”

“Also,” Hermione added, “we’re serious enough about it that if you see the oath and change your mind, we will stun and obliviate you, as part of the secret is in the oath.”

That rocked the translator back.  On the one hand he felt slightly insulted that they required an additional oath despite the agreements in the retainer and contract documents.  On the other, this was Harry Potter he was talking about.  He weighed the pros and cons, and eventually agreed.  He watched as Hermione cast a privacy charm, then handed him the oath.

“What the….” Gerald exclaimed, “Mrs. Hermione _Potter_?”

“Oath, then we explain,” Harry said coldly, then raised his wand, “or we can just stun you now.”

“Fine, the oath.” O’Connor said, holding his hands up. “Sorry, it’s just a rather large shock.” He slowly pulled his wand back out and took the oath.

“Ok, now that we have your oath: we are bonded,” Hermione explained. “A bond that made us married by the will of magic and that still requires close physical contact to settle.” She turned to smile at her husband. “While we are both happy with this, it presents a problem as we expect that Harry’s hostage will be me.”

“And since they’ll take the hostages long before the start of the task, the lack of contact could make you ill,” Gerald guessed. “Do the organizers know?”

“We’ve told them, but whether they will listen…” Harry sighed, “We don’t know.  So we’re making plans just in case.  You are to negotiate with the Merfolk, on our behest, to find a way to minimize the time we must be separated.  You are allowed to tell them we are a golden heart bonded couple who just recently bonded.  If there is a way to help them, we will, but we are concerned for our lives over this.”

“I can understand that,” O’Connor agreed, then shook his head.  “A _golden_ heart bond?  Damn Mr. Potter, you can’t do anything normal can you?”

“Wish I could,” Harry sighed as Hermione lowered the privacy ward.

“Ok, I’ll go talk to them today,” Gerald informed them. “Are any of you coming with me or will this be a back and forth from the village to the shore thing?”

“Ve Vill go,” Viktor told him, as he and Cedric stepped forward.  

“Harry?  Hermione?”

“I guess I will,” Harry sighed, then muttered “Cats hate water.”

O’Connor turned out to have thought ahead and brought a trio of magical boards that would write what the person it was paired with thought at it.  Since they were charmed waterproof, it would allow the four to communicate underwater.  A quick trip back to the castle for their swimwear they’d readied for the task and they were ready to go.

Each of the boys had used the break to acquire a suit they thought would best suit them for the task.  Both Cedric and Viktor had settled on long swim trunks and tank tops to allow for freedom of movement.  Cedric had a set in yellow and black, while Viktor’s was black with red accents.  Harry had gone a slightly different way, due to his Muggle upbringing.  What he had acquired, then modified with some help, was a muggle dry suit.  Covering him from neck to ankle and wrist, with a long obviously modified tail sleeve behind, it would not only keep him dry, but warm as well.  He silently thanked Hermione’s foresight in bringing the other champions and their companions in on Harry’s secret.  Hiding his much smaller ears with his hair and curling his tail under his clothes kept it unnoticed normally, but there was no way he’d be able to hide it once he was wet.  The day of the task they’d disillusion both, but for now it wasn’t worth it.

It took 2 days to finish their negotiations.  At first, the hardest part was getting the Merfolk to even open a dialogue.  But once the Merfolk realized that their friend Dumbledore had failed to mention a condition that would require them to go to war, they began in earnest.  The end result was they would refuse to accept a Veela as a hostage, forcing the organizers to pick another.  They would, however, allow Fleur a one-time invitation to enter as part of the task only.  The four friends, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Cho, would volunteer to be the hostages, with the proviso that they would not be taken to the village until 10 minutes before the start of the task, rather than the night before.  This served 2 purposes; first it relieved the Merfolk of babysitting the hostages overnight, and secondly it allowed Harry and Hermione to maintain the contact their bond demanded as long as possible.

The discussions with the Headmaster and the organizers went less well.

 

“What do you mean _you_ are changing the task?” Bagman asked incredulously.

“We didn’t say we’re changing the task Mr. Bagman,” Hermione explained.  “We said we negotiated with the Merfolk and altered some of the conditions.”

They were meeting in the Anteroom of the Great Hall, the same room they’d entered after their names had come out of the cup.  The champions had requested a meeting with the judges, to discuss the conditions of the task, and had entered after the evening meal a week later.  Now Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkaroff, Bagman and Percy were facing all eight students with dumbfounded looks on their faces.  Professor McGonagall had joined them as part advocate, part stand-in for Harry’s headmaster as he wasn’t competing for Hogwarts.

“We know the task, we know the stakes, and we know where you screwed up royally,” Harry continued, “and we set out to fix it.”

“Harry my boy,” Dumbledore said in a grandfatherly tone, “I assure you, every detail has been carefully reviewed.  There was nothing of concern and I guarantee that there is no need for your interference, however well-intentioned it was.”

“So war was ‘nothing of concern’, Headmaster?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“War?” Bagman snorted. “There was nothing in the task that would start a war.”

“Ok, see if you can follow me here,” Hermione said slowly, as if explaining to a 3 year old, or Ron. “Hostages would be in the Merfolk Village, correct?”

“Yes,” Percy said definitively. “Though now that you know that, that will have to change.”

“No it won’t,” Hermione said, “They were supposed to know that, remember?  Anyway, what is Fleur?”

“The Beauxbaton Champion of course,” Dumbledore said with obvious impatience. “What does that have to do with it?”

“I asked _what_ she was, Headmaster, not _who_ ,” Hermione corrected him.

“Mon Due,” Maxime gasped.  “This is… that would be a disaster.”

“Care to share with your less educated fellows Madame?” Harry asked politely.

“Now see here,” Percy began, only to be cut off.

“You almost started a war, Mr. Weasley,” Harry injected. “Why don’t you sit back and find out why.”

“She is Veela,” Madame Maxime explained. “If she were to enter a Merfolk village, it would be breaking an ancient treaty.  It would be as they say: War.”

“I’m sure one person entering some village would not create this war you speak of.” Dumbledore waved the explanation off. “No one goes to war over someone going into a village.”

“Apparently you had the same history teacher we do, Headmaster,” Harry quipped. “Only ever going on about Goblin rebellions.  If you had read the book, or asked someone, like my beautiful Hermione, you’d know that the Merfolk/Veela war was what sank Atlantis.  It was a Global catastrophe.”

“And that catastrophe is why it’s such a big deal for a member of one species to enter the territory of the other _without invitation_ ,” Hermione finished. “Thankfully, _I do_ pay attention.  We were able to acquire a copy of the original treaty.  It does specify an uninvited entry.  To that end, we negotiated with the Merfolk Chieftainess, and arranged for Fleur to be invited to the village on the day of the Task.”

“Then there’s no issue.” Dumbledore clapped. “That clears everything up and all is good. Now-”

Not quite Headmaster,” Cedric cut him off, “with all due respect, there were some conditions from the Merfolk.”

“Conditions?” Percy asked, “They are dictating to us?”

“We are getting their assistance in our event, sir,” Harry pointed out.  “And they aren’t very onerous either.”

“What Condeetions?” Maxime asked.

“First, only Fleur is invited.  No other Veela,” Hermione stated.  “This prevents the use of any of her family as her hostage.”

“That is unacceptable,” Percy informed them. “The hostages have already been chosen.”

“And I’m guessing you already asked them for their cooperation?” Hermione asked sweetly. “Or at least their guardians?  Cause if not, and you took them anyway, that would be kidnapping.”

“Well…” Bagman started looking abashed, then trailed off.

“We have a way around that, we have four _volunteer_ hostages.  They are informed and ready to be our hostages, provided the rest of the conditions are met.”

“I assume you four are volunteering?” Maxime asked of the four non champion students.

“Provided the rest of the Merfolk conditions are met, yes,” Cho answered for them, “but _only_ if they are met.”

“What are the rest of these creatures’ demands?” Karkaroff asked in an imperious voice.

“The volunteers will be taken to the Merfolk Village only ten minutes before the task begins.” Hermione continued.

“That’s too soon, the champions would be able to follow the Merfolk straight to the village.” Dumbledore denied, “It would invalidate the challenge.”

“Professor, when you visit the village, how long does it take you to get there?” Hermione asked.

“About 30 minutes,” Dumbledore answered, confused by the question.

“And that is from the shore, correct?” she pressed on.

“Of course.”

“And how long does it take them to come to you at the shore?”

“It takes… You know, I’ve never asked,” Dumbledore pondered, “I always thought it was the same as it took me to get to them.”

“We actually asked them,” Hermione informed them.  “It takes about ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

“So each volunteer will be taken to the village, and wait for their ‘rescue’.” Cedric explained, “And be in the village by the time we begin.”

“On Zat note, zer is one ozzer zing zat will be changed,” Fleur spoke for the first time, the anger in her voice evident.  “The ‘ostages will be awake and unbound.  Zat you would tie unconscious victeems to rocks at the bottom, under spells that would expire at ze end of ze task is beyond idiotic!”

“No see here young lady-” Weasley started angrily.

“No, you need to THINK.” Cedric cut him off, pounding a fist into the table. “We have one hour to complete the task.  In effect, the task ends after an hour.  What would happen to a hostage who hadn’t been rescued or hadn’t made it to the surface at that time?”

“Dumblydore,” Maxime said, standing to her full impressive height.  “Ze current condeetions of zis task are unacceptable.  I move that the condeetions put forth by ze champions be accepted.”

“As Mr. Potters’ de facto teacher representative,” McGonagall voiced for the first time in the meeting, “I second this and question why no actions were taken when previous questions were raised.”

“Well…” Dumbledore looked around at the confused looks on Percy and Bagmans face, along with the disinterested one of Karkaroff’s and the furious one on Madame Maxime’s. “It seems some changes to the conditions of the task may be in order…”

“Albus…” McGonagall growled warningly.

“Very well, the changes are hereby adopted.  The date for the 2nd task is still the twenty-fourth of February.  We shall see everyone again then? Yes?  Then this meeting is adjourned.”

 


	25. Revelations of Magic

**25 Revelations of Magic**

 

They were kneeled on the floor, knees touching.  They held each other's hands, left in right, forming a loop.  Harry’s right hand to Hermione’s left, through her, to her right hand which he held in his left.  They were breathing deep, in sync, with barely any movement.  One could believe they were in an odd staring contest, as they had yet to take their eyes from the other.  But they still blinked, and their tails swished, but even that was in sync.  Professor McGonagall sat to one side, in her animagus form, basking in the light of the full moon and watching intently.

She had been amazed when Hermione told her of Harry’s idea.  To use not only the bond but their change to accelerate the meditation to meet their forms?  Quite the unique situation permitting it but the theory was sound.  So she sat, watching, as they embraced the bond, on the full moon, meditating on their forms.

The tabby cat’s ears perked and she sat a little straighter as she realized the pair’s eyes had closed.  Not in the slow blink they’d been doing for the last half hour, but fully closed.  Watching them more attentively now, she realized not only had their breathing matched each other’s, but now their heartbeats were in time as well.  As she watched, she felt before she saw the changes around them.

Their fur and hair started to shift.  She’d thought it was just a draft until she realized there was none. Her hair stood on end as the power washed over her.  She watched in awe as the power built around the pair.  Hermione’s hair washed behind her, waving as if in a gentle breeze.  Harry’s hair stood on end, and as Minerva watched, power started to arc off of them and between them like lightning.  The pair rose in the air on the power cascading from them, hovering three feet from the ground before they stabilized.  They began to shift positions, orbiting around each other.  

 

Harry and Hermione opened their eyes.  Gone was their room, gone were the walls of Hogwarts.  They sat in a glade, a gentle breeze bringing scents of fresh, clean forest air to them.  They heard birdsong, and the rustle of leaves.  The sun shone upon them, not hot, but warm and comforting.  It was a place of perfect peace.

A noise came from in front of them, but it did not startle them.  This was their spot, they knew, and only those that were part of them could approach.  The brushes before them rustled, then parted to reveal their forms.

A pair of midnight black panthers strode from the undergrowth, sleek and powerful.  Beyond black from nose to tail, the only difference was a lighter tuft on one’s forehead, in the shape of Harry’s scar and green eyes.  The other had the warm brown eyes of Hermione looking at them.  Smoke or shadow seemed to emanate from their fur, surrounding them in wisps as they walked.  The cats circled once, before sitting before the pair and yowling.  And the pair could understand them!

 **#We are your second forms, gifted to you when you protected each other from the werewolf.#**   One spoke.

 **#We started there, but truly became yours when you saved each other in the first task and bonded.  We shall be the first you learn,#** the second told them.

“Gifted?” Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

 **#You each had a form before this, a rather powerful one in fact.#**  Harry’s form yowled.

 **#Very powerful, but magic knew the cost of your actions, and that you took them without hesitation.  Your bond was born.#** Hermione’s panther continued.

**#To help you, and to reward such dedication to each other, we were gifted to you by Magic herself.#**

“Will we meet the others yet?” Hermione asked, “Or must we wait?”

 **#Of course young ones, they are eager to meet you.#** Her form replied with a laugh.

 ***Indeed we are*** a cry came from behind them.  Turning, they spotted a great Gryphon approaching, it’s majestic wings furled.  The normally white feathers of its head shining golden in the light, while its great clawed feet turned the soil beneath them.  He strode pridefully across the glen, before sitting before Hermione.  ***I shall be the second form you learn.***

**$And I shall be yours, youngling.$**

The pair turned to the familiar speech, sighting a magnificent dragon to their left, approaching Harry.  It’s sleek red shifting scales glinting in the sun. It was hard to pick one color to call him, as the scales seemed to shift from darkest purple to the brightest crimson.  Not as large as the Horntail they’d met in the first task, but he was still impressive.  Eight to ten meters from tip to tail, he was sleeker and less armored than the Horntail, with lither lines and an elegance to him.

“Second forms?” Hermione breathed, gently rubbing her cat’s furred head.  “How many do we have?”

 **$Normally a witch or wizard would have one form, though some older cultures can obtain more.$** Harry’s dragon explained. **$It is very rare to have a magical form, for it takes a great deal of power to call one.  To have the three you have is unheard of.$**

“Three?” Harry was confused. “There’s four of you.”

“I think he means three each,” Hermione explained. “But how?  We’re not special or powerful or anything.”

 **$You are who you are,$** the dragon explained, then indicated the cats. **$Shadow and Midnight are the aspects gifted to you for your bond.  While Fleet and myself were gifted to you when you accepted your roles, though you don’t yet know them.$**

“Roles?” Hermione asked. “What roles?”

 ***It is not for us to reveal, but you shall know in time,*** Fleet cried. ***For now, know you are on the right path.***

“And what is your name?” Harry asked, cautiously reaching out in wonder to stroke his snout.

 **$I am Blitz,$** Blitz said simply, nuzzling into Harry’s hand.  **$And here are your last, but original forms, from before your bonding.  Pyre is your form Harry, and the secret to your survival of the curse that struck you when you were young.$**

A burst of blue flame flared before them, swirling in a small cyclone.  Flames licked out but did not burn him.  Carefully, he reached out, drawn to the flame.  The instant he touched it, it died, and in its center remained a black and blue Phoenix.  Similar in stature to Fawkes, Pyre looked back at Harry with the same green eyes and their gaze locked.  It was several seconds before either moved, but when they did, they both smiled and nodded.

 **$And for you, my Lady, I introduce Grace,$** Blitz said reverently, nodding back to the other side of the clearing.  Emerging slowly from the brush, a brilliant silvery white Unicorn entered.  Its shimmering coat blinding them until their eyes adjusted.  By that time, Grace was before a trembling Hermione, bowing to her.  Her silver horn laced with gold touching lightly upon Hermione’s shoulder.  Looking back up, Grace met Hermione with matching chocolate brown eyes.  Again Human and Spirit eyes locked, and again both smiled and nodded.

 **$They shall be the last forms you learn,$** Blitz continued. **$For while they are your original forms, and we are but gifts from magic, they are more distant from you than we.  As we are part of you already, they are as well, however they are not aided by magic.  They hold more power than your other forms, and thus, shall be unattainable for some time.  You may, however, always come here to visit them.$** Blitz grinned as each embraced their forms in order, caressing each before moving to the next. **$But for now, your professor is getting anxious, so it is time to wake.$**

“Before we go, I have one question,” Hermione stalled. “I just was to make sure I understand all this. Originally our forms were Pyre and Grace, correct?”

**$Yes.$**

“Then, when we protected each other from Professor Lupin, Midnight and Shadow were gifted to us by Magic?” Hermione indicated to the two panther like cats.

 **$Indeed.$** Blitz nodded in confirmation.

“Then when we bonded, you and Fleet were gifted to us as well?” Hermione continued, “And because of that gifting, you four that were gifted will be easier to attain?”

**$Very astute, that is indeed the way of it.$**

“McGonagall’s never going to believe this,” Harry muttered as the jungle faded away.

 

McGonagall was staring in awe as they opened their eyes just as they landed softly on the floor, the power bleeding away as they sighed.  She had long since left her own animagus form to better assess her students.  Turning to her, Minerva saw the last vestiges of power leave their eyes as Hermione spoke excitedly.

“We found them Professor,” her voice cracking with excitement, “and you’re never going to believe what they are.”

“Them Mrs. Potter?” McGonagall asked as she cast a few diagnostic charms on them.

“Them professor, _three_ each,” Hermione confirmed. “We each had one to start, very powerful ones in fact.  When we saved each other from Lupin, Magic gifted us another pair.  She also gave us a third pair, for accepting some role, but we don’t know what that means and they wouldn’t tell us.”

“I see.” Minerva was momentarily nonplussed, but continued, “Well, are you going to tell me, or shall I guess?”

“I think you’d be guessing for a while professor,” Harry responded wryly. “All three are magical.”

McGonagall sat down abruptly at that announcement.  For the first time in their experience with the venerable woman, it appeared she was speechless.  She sat, a stunned expression on her face, and opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.  Hermione came over and placed a reassuring hand on the older woman's shoulder.

“Are you ok professor?”

“I think so,” McGonagall finally responded. “Just a bit shocked I guess.  Can’t you two do anything normal?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question since first year professor,” Harry sighed. “It’s not like we try to be difficult.”

“No,” Minerva sighed too, “I’ll grant you that.  So, just how unusual are your magical forms?”

“Oh, the first pair we’ll learn are relatively tame ma’am.” Harry told her with a hint of glee. “They are shadow panthers.”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said sternly, “the fact you call such incredible magical creatures tame fills me with dread.”

“Probably a good thing Professor. His second form is a dragon.” Hermione said in a helpful tone.  

“A… a _Dragon_?” McGonagall asked in shock. “Dare I ask what kind?”

“We will have to look it up to be sure,” Hermione temporized, “but I'm pretty sure it’s a Northern Firesnout.”

“So only the fastest and most agile dragon known to Wizard-kind.  Wonderful.” She turned to Hermione, “And you are the same again?”

“No, I’m not a dragon,” Hermione assured her favorite teacher. “I’m a Gryphon.”

“My word.” McGonagall fanned herself.

“You sure you want to know all three forms now professor,” Harry asked in concern. “You’re starting to look a bit shell-shocked.”

“Just get it over with you insolent boy,” McGonagall snapped, “it can’t get any worse.”

“Wanna bet?” Harry grinned.

“What could possibly be worse?” Fear traced into the deputy headmistress’s voice.

“Well, Hermione’s original form, the most powerful, is a Unicorn,” Harry said softly, trying not to excite the transfiguration mistress.

“And we know how Harry survived the killing curse now,” Hermione told the stunned teacher. “His original form is an Aurora Phoenix.”

“Bloody hell,” Minerva gasped, her mind trying to process the information and failing.

“Language Professor,” Hermione chastised the elder woman with a grin. “What would your students think?”

“Mrs. Potter, if they had my awareness of Animagi, and had just been told a pair of teens had not one, not two, but three magical forms, they’d say much worse, I assure you.”

“It’s not that big a deal Professor,” Harry said diffidently. “Yeah, more than one form is unusual, but you said it yourself; there are magical legacies that have multiple forms.”

“I did indeed, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall agreed, getting her balance again, “but they are non-magical forms.  Magical Animagus forms take an extremely powerful and focused person.  There are a handful of recorded instances of magical forms across history, but never has a wizard had more than one, or even multiple forms with one being magical.  To have three… let’s just say that I will never underestimate you two again.”

“How does power correlate to a magical form professor?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Well, to be completely honest, we’re not sure,” Minerva admitted. “The most common theory states that it takes a certain amount of power to assume a magical form.  Probably because of the abilities inherent in a magical form.”

“But if magical power were a factor, how do so few wizards become animagi?” Harry asked. “I can’t imagine that many don’t want the ability.”

“”You’d be surprised Mr. Potter,” McGonagall contradicted him. “As you’ve pointed out before, wizards are inherently lazy, and the Animagus transformation is a difficult one.  Most don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I wonder how many meet their form and think it isn’t worth them?” pondered Hermione.  “How many see a snake or a mouse or a swift and think it’s not worth the effort.”

“Probably not as many as you think,” McGonagall countered. “The effort to even meet your form would discourage many.”

“But why would power make a difference?” Harry asked again, “It doesn’t take that much more power to transfigure a dog as it does a mouse.”

“Well, the best explanation I’ve seen,” McGonagall continued her explanation, “states that a wizard has no inherent magical power, but the ability to channel it from the world around us.  It takes a certain amount of maturity to manage the flow, hence why we appear to stabilize at about age ten or eleven.  ‘Accidental magic’ is actually that power leaking out in a barely directed burst.  Now each magic user, be they witch, wizard, or magical creature, uses and can channel a given amount of power.  Think of it as a pipe, the more powerful the wizard, the bigger the pipe.”

“So the more magical the creature, the bigger pipe it requires to take on its abilities?” Harry asked cautiously.

“Precisely,” Minerva confirmed. “To attain a given magical creature’s abilities requires a much larger pipe than any normal creature.”

“So almost everyone else has a small pipe, and we just have a really big one?” Harry asked for clarification.

“Not necessarily,” McGonagall cautioned. “That’s the cross section of those who wish to be an animagus.   How that reflects the rest of the wizarding population, it’s a guess at best.”

“If magical Animagi were as powerful as you indicate,” Hermione put in, “I’d guess a majority of the supposition is essentially correct. Most of the Animagus population tends to be top tier wizards and witches as they are more motivated in general.”

“Possibly, but then you have exceptions to the rule, such as Professor Dumbledore and Peter Pettigrew,” McGonagall countered. “Albus is a great and rather powerful wizard, but is not an Animagus.  Peter on the other hand was a rather pathetic wizard who somehow managed to complete the transformation.”

“With help,” Hermione pointed out.

“True,” Minerva conceded, then turned to Harry who’d gotten a distant look on his face. “Problems, Mr. Potter?”

“No,” Harry said after shaking his head to return to the conversation at hand.  “I was just wondering, do Animagi get a handle on wandless magic better?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” McGonagall answered, perplexed.  “Though I’m not aware if anyone has looked at that particular correlation before.  Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you are correct in the assumption that in general Animagi have a larger ‘pipe’, wouldn’t that correlate to an ease with natural magics since the animagus transformation can be done wandlessly?  And with that ease, or at least familiarity, it stands to reason that wandless magic would be easier in general for them, as they already cast a rather powerful magic wandlessly.  Plus the larger ‘pipe’ gives them access to the larger power reserves generally required for wandless magic.”

“An interesting suggestion Mr. Potter,” Minerva conceded. “Mrs. Potter, your thoughts?”

“I’m not sure professor,” Hermione said. “It certainly makes some sense, but there are guesses piled on assumptions, any one of which could be false and cause the whole pile to collapse.  If nothing else, we’ll need to test and practice everything in order to even try to answer it.”

“I agree, which means we have a lot of work ahead of us.” Minerva grinned. “But for now, you two need to rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 


	26. Interludes of Justice

**26 Interlude of Justice**

 

The weeks leading up to the second task were suspiciously quiet.  Harry and Hermione had discussed the oddity at length, but had yet to find a reasonable cause.  Everyone outside of their circle of friends had backed way off, in an apparent mixture of fear and awe.  Their friends were still talking to them, but outside them it was like they were a walking silencing spell.  The pair had trained hard with the other champions, the ‘hostages’ playing the roles of various underwater obstacles.  One thing Harry and Hermione had found was that they were able to track each other’s location through their bond.  They informed the others of the ability, but not the cause.  They would still cast tracking charms on all the hostages before they went to the lake, but it would be a handy backup.

February’s full moon fell on a Wednesday, which made a rather large hole in their schedules, but Hermione had started to get a cold the week before, providing a ready excuse.  This moon was again, a bit less painful for Harry, being his third, but still not as easy as Hermione’s.  Being a school night, they weren’t allowed out to roam the forbidden forest as they had in December, but even cuddling in their quarters was enough for them.  At least they were together.

The biggest change had come at the end of January, when someone had finally noticed that Harry too had cat ears.  It had happened at dinner, and Malfoy had been to blame.  The blond ponce had been seething over his repeated failed attempts to ambush the pair and had finally resorted to an outright attack in the great hall.  To give him some credit, he had someone else actually conjure the buckets of ice water, but he’d admitted to planning it.

Malfoy had come swaggering up to the Gryffindor table, accompanied as always by his book ends: Crabbe and Goyle.

“Do you smell something Goyle?  Smells like a dirty mudblood and something that should be dead but isn’t,” he called loudly, but not quite loud enough to be heard at the head table.

“Finally realized you need to start taking showers Malfoy?” Harry asked, not looking up.

“What?  Why you…” the blonde git started, then recovered himself, “I was referring to you and the thing beside you.  You know?  I heard Gryffindor even kicked you two out of the dorms, said they couldn’t stand the smell.”

“Guess you heard wrong then,” Hermione said evenly. “Not the first time you’ve believed something obviously false.  You still believe that you have an IQ in the double digits after all.  Though I suppose that’s still better than the negative ones your thugs have.”

“What’s that mean?” Crabbe asked, confused about whether to be insulted or not.

“It means that every time you try to insult us, you fail, yet you keep coming back,” Harry explained.  “Now what do you really want Malfoy?  I’m trying to eat.”

“Just to say you need a bath Potter,” Malfoy sneered, “Maybe someone should help you with that.”

Both Harry and Hermione sensed the impending attack, but couldn’t move fast enough as two large buckets appeared over their heads and dumped their loads of ice water over them.  Hermione’s shriek was loud enough to finally call attention to the confrontation and Professors McGonagall and Snape hurried over, demanding to know what had happened.  All three Slytherins denied any involvement and even offered to have their wands checked.  They were clear of course, but everyone knew who was to blame.  Snape’s loud abuse of Harry’s newly revealed ears had caused many to turn and see for themselves.  The look on the potions master's face when Harry congratulated him on finally noticing what had changed months ago was worth it though.

The pile of Slytherins found hogtied outside Dumbledore's office the next morning, complete with memories of their questioning, was quite surprising.  The fact that both interrogators could not be identified in the memories was disturbing to the professors, though McGonagall pointed out that it had to be an older student, given the spells cast to compel the truth being told. The rumors spread over the school before breakfast ensured that the Slytherins’ crimes couldn’t be covered up.  Given the evidence against them, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint were all put on probation and had a weeks’ worth of detentions assigned.  No one ever figured out who the interrogators had been.

A week later, another group of students, this time Ravenclaws, were found outside the headmaster's office.  This group had apparently decided they could get away with bullying and terrorizing the lower years.  Evidence was found implicating them in harassment, theft, and several other crimes.  It was bad enough that Professor Flitwick called a house meeting that night.  The sapphire points counter was significantly less full the next day.

A week before the second task, a pair of Hufflepuffs and a Gryffindor were found in a similar position, this time the memories showed them confessing to plans of sabotage and interference against the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Champions during the task.  Two weeks of detention and a hundred point deductions each was assigned.  Word soon spread that there was a line you did not cross, and if you did, you would not escape justice.

 

_____________

 

“Unfortunately Mr. Lupin appears to be running into an issue with his Animagus training,” McGonagall informed them during one of their sessions.  “It appears the wolf interferes with finding his form.”

“It does?” Hermione asked, watching as Harry’s arm returned to normal.  “Is it chasing it away or something?”

“He wouldn’t say exactly,” Minerva admitted, “But it sounded like he couldn’t find his animal, just the wolf.”

“Odd,” Harry commented, “I wonder why he can’t find it.”

“It may be hiding,” Hermione interjected. “Even he fears his wolf.”

“Maybe that’s his problem,” Harry offered, then continued at the looks both his wife and their favorite professor were giving him.  “He has never embraced the changes being a werewolf brought to his life.  He’s ashamed and hates the wolf inside him.  He has spent his entire life fearing what he is.  That is wrong.  We embraced ourselves, even including each other as that is part of us.  We found our forms by embracing our bond during the full moon, when our feline selves were closest to the surface.  He is trying to find his form to hide from the wolf which is part of him.”

“Are you calling him a coward?” Hermione asked softly.

“No, not really, but he fears himself.  He refuses to admit he’s… afraid?  Feels guilty?  He’s denying a major part of who he is.”

“But Mr. Potter, isn’t that the point of this?” McGonagall asked. “You yourself suggested this as an alternative to his change.”

“I suggested that the animagus transformation might allow a werewolf to retain himself,” Harry corrected, “not that it was a cure.”

Seeing Hermione’s brow crease as she considered this, Harry settled back and gathered his thoughts before continuing.  “I actually think I have a better grasp now than before, and some of my thoughts have changed, but it boils down to this:  The werewolf is part of the man.  It doesn’t matter if the wolf was embraced or forced upon him, it is part of him regardless.  It’s the same as the cats are to us.  They were born of us as soon as we were attacked, and have been part of us since.  We found our forms by embracing that part of us, Professor Lupin refuses and is running from that side of himself.”

“You’re saying that in order to not have to face the wolf every month he’ll have to embrace it?” McGonagall asked.

“Yes and no,” Harry temporized, “When I first suggested it, I thought it might be a way to avoid the change.  Since then I've learned more about it and I think that it’s more of an alternative.  In order to become an animagus you have to be one with yourself, to know yourself.  The wolf is part of any werewolf, just as our cats are part of us.  Remus is afraid of the wolf, and thus, afraid of himself.  It probably won’t work that way.”

“You may have a point.” Minerva conceded. “But how do you suggest he continues?”

“He has to face himself, and accept the wolf as part of him,” Harry sighed. “I don’t think he’ll be able to continue until he does.”

 

____________

 

The day of the second task grew inexorably closer, and the champions all began to feel anxious.  Their training in the Black Lake had reached the point of repetition, as had their study of aquatic creatures they felt the organizers might add to bring some excitement to the task.  The converted classroom they’d been using had started to look more like their own personal common room than a study area, but they used it more like one too.

“So, one more review?” Hermione asked the night before the task.

“Do you promise this is the last one?” Cedric chuckled from a couch where he and Cho had been relaxing together.  The grin and light tone took any sting from his words.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I know we’ve been over it before, but I just want everyone to come back in one piece.”

“We know Hermione,” Harry assured her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “We know you mean well, that’s why we love you.  At least I do.” He grinned and kissed her cheek as she huffed.

“Ten minutes before the task begins,” Fleur started, her accent much improved due to the help of her friends, “Zee volunteers are taken to the Merfolk village.  Zey will have bubblehead charms on them, with emergency Gillyweed as a backup.”

“Once the task begins,” Cedric continued, “Fleur and I will cast our own bubble head charms, while Harry and Viktor use a thirty minute dose of Gillyweed.”

“I will lead, scouting ahead, while Viktor watches our rear.” Harry continued.  “Fleur and Cedric will be responsible for watching our sides and everyone will remember to watch above and below.”

“Vonce at the village, Harry vill enter to bring the Chieftainess to the edge, vhere ve vill be vaiting with Fleur,” Viktor provided. “The Chieftainess will guide us, Fleur specifically, to the square where the hostages will be waiting.  Each of us takes our hostage and we return in much the same manner.”

“The hostages will be holding weights to help us stay down in the village,” Neville added from beside Luna, “We can’t release them unless our champion is there, or there is an emergency and we need to escape.”

“And in any encounter we have,” Cedric finished up, “Harry is the distraction, Fleur and I are containment, and Viktor is the heavy hitter.”

The plan, while it sounded simple, was the product of hours of training and testing.  While each could, in fact, cast silently with effort, Viktor was by far the best of the older champions.  The surprise was how good Harry and Hermione were.  No one had quite figured out why, but the pair both cast at nearly the same level silently as they did vocally.  This had left Harry and Viktor using the magical plant; Gillyweed.  

The wonderful weed from the mediterranean, while giving both gills and flipper-like hands and feet, prevented vocal casting as a result of the physical changes it induced.  It was a tradeoff, for while they were faster and could breathe in the water, they couldn’t cast quite as well.  This led the group to finally split the methods.  Harry and Viktor, the best silent casters of the champions, would use the Gillyweed while Cedric and Fleur would use bubble head charms where they could vocally cast.

The four ‘hostages’ had been spending almost as much time in the lake as the Champions.  Not only helping them train, and training themselves, but acclimating to the water as well.  They had helped experiment with spells, finding the effective ranges now inherent as the water attenuated the power significantly.  They also had different effects.  Several had had to get Madam Pomfrey to repair damaged eardrums after Cedric had tried a _Bombarda_ curse at too close a range.  Hermione claimed it was like a depth charge, something only Harry understood until they explained to the others.  This did cause some experimentation with trying to figure out some kind of sonar but nothing they had found was usable.

“I hate to sound cocky,” Harry grinned, “but it sounds like we’re as prepared as we can be at this point.”

“I agree,” Fleur seconded. “As much as we ‘ave prepared, zere iz no plan that survives ze enemy, no?”

“Close enough,” snorted Hermione at the only minor error in the quote.  “Let’s just make sure we all get enough rest tonight, we have a big day tomorrow.”

 

____________

 

The morning of the second task dawned cold and miserable. The late February weather was wet from a slight drizzle, with a slight breeze from across the lake, causing a distinct chill in the air.  Low clouds blocked any chance of sun and the wind caused a light chop across the surface of the Black Lake.

In the castle, nestled into their quarters, Harry and Hermione were fighting getting up as long as possible.  It was not the cold outside the covers of their bed that daunted them, but the task they faced that aided their reticence.  They had put paid to their own advice the night before, turning in early to get as much rest as they could, but sleep had not come swiftly.  They had stayed up, talking and basking in each other’s presence, before finally falling asleep in each other's arms.

“I wish we could just stay like this forever.” Hermione sighed, snuggling further into Harry’s arms.

“I do too,” Harry agreed, savoring their closeness. “But how about a promise?  After the task, we take a holiday.  We disappear for the rest of the weekend, until Sunday night.  We can ask Tippy or one of the elves to bring us what we don’t make ourselves.  Think of it as a break from the insanity.  Kinda like what we did after the first task.”

“That could be fun, but I have an addition.  I know we’ve been dancing around the next step for a while now, but I'm ready.  I want to take the next step for us this weekend.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, concerned. “I mean, I trust that you want to, but that kind of intimacy is a big step.  Are you sure it’s time?”

“Harry,” she scooted up and kissed his cheek, “even if I wasn't before, the fact that you can ask me that, and I know it wouldn’t happen if I say no, means that it’s time.  There’s no pressure, no expectations, just desire.  And I desire to be intimate with my husband.”

“Tonight then?” he sighed, returning her kiss.

“Tonight.”

“Now we just have to get up and get to tonight.”

“Spoilsport.”

 


End file.
